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ROBIN HOOD 




®ben be breto tfje boto anb looseb ttyt filjaft 




















ROBIN HOOD 


EDITED BY 

GEORGE COCKBURN HARVEY, B.A. 


ILLUSTRATED BY 

EDWIN JOHN PRITTIE 



THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY, Publishers 
PHILADELPHIA CHICAGO 

TORONTO—THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY, Limited 








Copyright, 1923, by 

Thu John C. Winston Company 

All rights reserved 


PRINTED IN THE U. S. A. 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. How Robin Hood Became an Outlaw. 5 

II. Robin Hood Meets Little John. 35 

III. Will Scarlet Joins the Band . 44 

IV. The Curtal Friar. 54 

V. How Robin Hood Dealt with Sir Richard 

of the Lea. 66 

VI. The Wedding of Alan-A-Dale. 73 

VII. How Robin Hood Won the Sheriff’s Prize 84 

VIII. Guy of Gisborne Seeks Robin Hood. 96 

IX. Robin Hood Meets a Tanner. 112 

X. How the Sheriff Gained a Queer Servant 121 

XI. The Sheriff Spends a Night in the Green¬ 
wood. 139 

XII. Robin Hood Meets George-A-Green and 

Then a Beggarman. 149 

XIII. Friar Tuck and the Bishop of Hereford. . 165 

XIV. Robin Hood Meets with a Tinker by the 

Way . 174 

XV. The Bishop Tries His Own Hand. 189 

XVI. Robin Hood Becomes a Butcher. 199 

XVII. How Robin Hood Saved the Widow’s Sons. 209 
XVIII. Robin Hood Meets Maid Marian in Sher¬ 
wood Forest. 219 

XIX. Sir Richard of the Lea Pays His Debts ... 227 
















Vlll 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


Robin Hood was shut up in a dungeon where only 

AT HIGH NOON A LITTLE LIGHT CAME THROUGH A 

THICK GRATING. 287 

SO THAT NIGHT THE SHERIFF MADE A GREAT FEAST IN 

HONOR OF THE KING’S MESSENGERS. 299 

No SOONER DID HE SEE THE ABBOT THAN HE HASTED TO 
LEAP DOWN FROM HIS HORSE AND FALL ON HIS KNEES 

beside Little John. 332 

He smiled as the bow twanged full and deep. 343 






INTRODUCTION 



!T again may we withdraw from our work- 


a-day world into the cool, green delights 


^ of merry Sherwood forest, hearken to the 
three clear blasts of the bugle, and gladden our 
eyes as the five-score gay yeomen in Lincoln 
green troop to their master’s call. Again may 
we hear the twang of the bow of yew and watch 
the gray goose shaft as it cleaves the glistening 
willow wand or brings down the king’s proud 
buck. Again may we fare forth with the merry 
outlaw as in clever disguise he wins the archery 
prize of the haughty Sheriff of Nottingham and 
inveigles this personification of an oppressive 
tyranny into the ambuscade of the outlaw 
friends of the poor. 

The spirit of eternal youth here frolics in an 
endless summer. Care-free and joyous, it 
relieves the haughty Norman of his gold and 
distributes its bounty to the poor and the 
afflicted. Its larders are always filled with good 
venison and brown October ale, and the feasts 
beneath the splendid oaks are one continuous 
picnic, enlivened by merry jests, rollicking songs, 
feats of strength, and contests with the good 


(i) 


2 INTRODUCTION 

long bow. Over it all presides the gay Robin 
Hood, prince of outlaws and prince of men, who 
holds his sovereignty by the power of a character 
which exemplifies ideals that have sent the Eng¬ 
lish race to enlighten the dark places of the earth 
and to proclaim a larger justice and a freer life 
to the victims of despotic oppression. 

The charm of this inspiring personality has 
been a bond of sympathy between lovers of ro¬ 
mance for a half dozen centuries. The greatest 
of all dramatists doubtless found here the 
inspiration for the forest of Arden with its 
dappled deer, its “life exempt from public 
haunt,” its Amiens, the lineal descendant of 
Alan-a-Dale, its Jaques, an intellectual Friar 
Tuck, and its Orlando dividing with the Senior 
Duke the love and the rule of Robin Hood. Such 
a parallel may be too fanciful, but surely we 
shall rejoice that the most fertile romancer of 
the last century has in his greatest work sum¬ 
moned the aid of the valiant outlaws in his res¬ 
cue of beauty in distress. Others will find rich 
ore in this same mine, and will coin its romance 
into rich treasures of the imagination. 

Well may we rejoice in the glorious spirit 
of true sportsmanship personified by the merry 
outlaw. His was the nobility that fought a fair 
fight, refusing to use his waiting host against 
an honest foe; his the chivalry that never 


INTRODUCTION 


3 


harmed a woman; his the generosity that could 
take defeat without malice and win to his band 
the victor by his large-hearted humanity. His 
sportsmanship lives in the best ideals of our 
games, in boy- and girl-scouting, in the splendid 
morale of our army and navy. Indeed, it may 
not be too much to say that the best spiritual 
demonstration of the last great conflict, so 
hardly survived, was this spirit that faces the 
vicissitudes of life and death neither to beg their 
favor nor fear their hate. 

In this edition of Robin Hood an effort has 
been made to preserve the spirit of the old bal¬ 
lads. Occasionally a fantastic exaggeration has 
been toned down or omitted, but great care has 
been taken to give a true reflection of the dis¬ 
tinctive and characteristic incidents of the old 
chronicle. The book is presented with an invita¬ 
tion to the reader to withdraw from the exacting 
round of bur complex life and lose himself in 
the fine romance of merry Sherwood and its 
benevolent outlaws. 


Chapter I 

HOW ROBIN HOOD BECAME AN OUTLAW 

L ONG, long ago, in the days when Henry the 
Second, first of Plantagenet Kings, was 
seated on the throne of England, a youth 
was walking swiftly through the forest of Sher¬ 
wood. He was a tall, strong, comely lad, wearing 
a woodland dress of green jerkin and hose and 
a blue cap or hood on his head. At his shoulder 
swung a longbow of great strength, at his side 
was his sheaf of cloth-yard arrows,* and hang¬ 
ing at his girdle was a short woodknife. 

The forest glade through which he strode 
was lined by huge oaks, and once he stood still 
to watch a herd of antlered deer sweep by in 
swift and graceful flight. One hand went to his 
bow, the other to his quiver, but he restrained 
himself, and forbore to lay an arrow on the 
string. For he knew that he was in a Royal 
forest, and that these were the King’s deer, and 
to slay one was as much—nay, more—than a 
man’s life was worth. More than a man’s life, 
that seems a hard saying; but it is a true one. 


♦Arrows a yard long. 


(5) 



6 ROBIN HOOD 

In those days one who killed a deer in a Royal 
preserve had his eyes torn out, and was muti¬ 
lated in so dreadful a fashion that death would 
have been preferable. 

The tall lad knew this very well; but another 
reason also caused him to stay his hand. He was 
on his way to Nottingham, hoping to enter the 
King’s service as a Forester, and it would ill 
become one with his hopes to lay a hand on the 
Royal deer. He strode on, left the glade, and was 
crossing a piece of greensward, dotted by thick¬ 
ets of holly and coppices of hazelwood, when he 
was hailed by a harsh voice. 

“Stand!” it cried. “Who art thou to march 
boldly through the King’s greenwood?” 

The lad turned, and saw a group of five or 
six figures beneath the shadow of a wide-spread¬ 
ing holly bush. All were seated on the ground 
save one, and he was the speaker. At a glance 
the youth knew them for a band of the King’s 
Foresters, men who guarded the Royal preserve 
and the deer, and he saluted them with a motion 
of respect. Then he replied to the man who had 
accosted him, a man whose silver bugle horn 
showed that he was the Chief Forester. 

“My name,” said the tall lad, “is Robert 
Fitzooth, though many people call me Robin 
Hood. My parents are dead, and I am going to 
Nottingham.” 


ROBIN HOOD AN OUTLAW 


7 


“And why goest thou there?” 

“I hope to become one of the King’s For¬ 
esters.” 

The man laughed scornfully. “Easier said 
than done!” he growled. “Every landless man 
and masterless rogue longs to join our goodly 
company. Of what use to us would be such a 
stripling as thou art? We want a man, but thou 
hast naught save a man’s bow.” 

“ ’Tis more than a man’s bow,” cried another 
Forester. “Look at the strength of it. I trow 
that slip of a lad can never draw it.” 

“Draw it?” jeered the Chief Forester; “not 
likely. He does but carry it for vain pretense.” 

Robin’s bright eye flashed, and his fresh face 
colored. 

“I will draw it at a mark with any man 
among you,” he cried. 

“And what will you wager?” said the Chief 
Forester. 

“I have no money,” cried the fiery lad, “but 
I will lay my head against your purse that I hit 
any target you choose.” 

“Done!” cried the Forester angrily, “there’s 
your target.” 

He pointed across the greensward to the 
mouth of a distant glade. A herd of deer had 
swept into view, and paused at sight of the men. 
They were led by a splendid hart, who now flung 


8 


ROBIN HOOD 


up his antlered head, snuffing the air and strik¬ 
ing the ground impatiently with one forefoot. 
Robin Hood said nothing, but took his bow, 
tightened his string, and chose an arrow from 
his quiver. Then he laid his body into the bow 
in such fashion that the Foresters knew that 
here was no common archer, either in point of 
strength or skill. The great bow bent and 
tautened amid murmurs of wonder from the 
onlookers. Then Robin showed that he had 
nerve as well as great strength and skill. Just 
as he was drawing the steel head to the bow- 
shaft the Chief Forester cried out suddenly: 

“ ’Tis your head you wager. Bethink thy¬ 
self of that, my young friend!” 

This was done to shake and disturb Robin 
just as he hung on his aim, but it failed. To all 
appearance the lad had heard nothing. His 
keen eye was glancing along the shaft, his brow 
was slightly furrowed in calculating thought, 
his lips were set firm; then twang! sang the bow¬ 
string, and the arrow hummed through the air 
like a great bee. And at the next instant the 
great beast made a leap into the air, and dropped 
on his side, dead, the shaft through his heart. 

For an instant the Foresters were dumb with 
amazement at the wonderful shot; then mur¬ 
murs of wonder arose. Robin turned quietly to 
the Chief Forester. 


ROBIN HOOD AN OUTLAW 


9 


“I have won the purse,” he said. 

But the man smiled an evil smile. “I will 
tell thee what thou hast won,” he said jeeringly; 
“thou hast won the pains and penalties of the 
forest laws. Yon was a King’s hart royal, and so 
good a bowman as thou art must well know what 
it means for a man to slay a deer in the Royal 
forest. Seize him and bind him, my men.” 

Robin saw the fearful danger into which 
this hasty acceptance of the target had led him, 
and turned to fly. Too late! A couple of For¬ 
esters had already sprung on him. He was 
tripped up and borne to the earth, and in a trice 
his feet and hands were lashed together with 
bowstrings. 

“Now we have a deer-killing rascal taken 
redhanded,” chuckled the Chief Forester. 
“Twice or thrice of late the Sheriff hath com¬ 
plained to me that deer be stolen from the cov¬ 
erts, and yet we bring no rogue to be charged 
with the theft. This day we can content him.” 

Robin’s blood ran cold as he heard these 
words. The treacherous villain had drawn him 
into the trap of shooting the deer, and now 
meant to give him up in cold blood as a common 
deerslayer, and to pretend that his capture was 
a proof of the keepers’ vigilance. 

The Forester’s speech was hailed with 
shouts of applause from his underlings. 


10 


ROBIN HOOD 


“Ay,” cried one, “and let us take him in as 
such a knave should be carried!” 

“How, Hubert?” demanded the Chief For¬ 
ester. 

“Why, bound in the hide of the deer he hath 
slain!” cried Hubert. 

“Good!” cried his leader, “off with the hide, 
lads, and tie the rogue in it.” 

The knives of the Foresters made short work 
of stripping off the skin of the deer, and within 
a short time Robin was wrapped in the hot, 
greasy hide, the latter lashed across with spare 
bowstrings. The lad’s head was thrust through 
an opening where the deer’s neck had been, but 
of the rest of him there was but a shapeless 
bundle, enclosed in the soft dappled fur, which 
had so lately clothed the great stag. Robin’s 
heart was bursting with rage and scorn for these 
mean traitors, but he was helpless. And the 
future was very black. The Norman Sheriff 
would never listen to a word that he might say; 
it was clear that an example was needed, and 
that he was to furnish it, and the picture rose 
before his eyes of the market place of Notting¬ 
ham and himself under the hands of the hang¬ 
man, who would carry out the dread sentence of 
the law. He had once seen a poor fellow suffer 
for this very offense that he was charged with, 
and he writhed again in agony to think that the 


ROBIN HOOD AN OUTLAW 11 

punishment now hung over him. To hobble 
about for, life, blind and a cripple, he who was 
now so young and strong, was too frightful a 
fate to dwell upon, and he twisted and turned 
in his bonds, and struggled to get free. But 
every effort was in vain. He was bound too 
securely for that. 

“How shall we carry the knave in?” cried 
one of the rangers. 

“Marry, but I have just thought of that, 
Dickon,” replied the Chief Forester. “Did we 
not see two or three Saxon hinds* cutting wood 
a short half-mile from here as we came along? 
List, we can hear them now.” 

There was silence among the band, and the 
sound of axes rang from a distance. 

“Run, Dickon,” said the leader to the man 
who had spoken, “and bring them hither with 
the sled they had with them for dragging home 
the logs.” 

Away went Dickon, and in a short time he 
returned with the woodmen and their sled. 

“Take up this knave,” commanded the Chief 
Forester, “fling him on your sled, and drag him 
before us to the town.” 

The woodmen were three in number, and 
two hastened to obey, the third following more 
reluctantly. All three belonged to the poorest 


♦Laborers. 



12 ROBIN HOOD 

class of workers, and were dressed rudely in 
jerkins made of cowhide, with sandals and leg¬ 
gings of the same material, and no head cover¬ 
ing on their matted shocks of hair. Two were 
old men, and these were swift to obey the com¬ 
mand of the forest tyrants whom they feared; 
the third was a strongly built, square-shoul¬ 
dered fellow of some thirty years of age, who, 
as has been said, moved more slowly to obey the 
command. Among them, however, Robin was 
taken up and swung onto the sled, a framework 
of planks set on two wooden runners, the latter 
shaped from pieces of ash, which curved up nat¬ 
urally towards the fore part. Then the three 
hinds seized the ropes with which the sled was 
drawn along, and the rude carriage slid easily 
across the short, crisp grass. 

Within half a mile they gained a rutted 
track, along which they turned, and now the sled 
bumped and jumped and tossed the deerhide 
bundle, with its human contents, from side to 
side. Robin was not flung completely off, 
because a row of posts stood up on either side of 
the sled, to prevent a burden being dislodged, 
but he was banged and bumped from side to side, 
utterly unable to help himself, while the brutal 
Foresters roared with laughter at the hopeless 
plight of their captive. The hide, too, was 
cramping Robin’s limbs in dreadful fashion, 


ROBIN HOOD AN OUTLAW 


13 


and as it drew tighter moment by moment he 
could have cried out in agony. But he shut his 
teeth, and maintained silence, knowing that his 
groans would be music to the ears of his brutal 
captors. 

Suddenly the course of the jolting sledge 
was interrupted. The Chief Forester sprang 
forward and brought his bowstave down with 
tremendous force across the shoulders of the 
young woodman. 

“Ha, knave!” he cried, “thou dost not pull 
with a will. What, would’st thou show thy 
Saxon sullenness to us, the keepers of the for¬ 
est!” And he rained a shower of blows on the 
man’s head and shoulders. 

The woodman’s hand dropped to the handle 
of the short broad-bladed knife thrust in his 
girdle, but at a cry from one of the old men he 
withdrew it, and pulled as if he had been a horse 
which had felt the urging lash. 

“Will, lad!” cried the old man, in trembling 
tone; “pull! pull! anger not the Forester.” 

“Ay, old man, you speak sooth,” said the 
tyrant, with a savage laugh. “That advice is 
good, indeed. ’Twere well that Will should not 
anger the Forester. Pull, Will! Pull, dog of a 
Saxon!” and the Forester laid half a dozen 
hearty blows again on the young woodman. 
Beneath the fell of matted hair, the Saxon’s 


14 


ROBIN HOOD 


eyes gleamed redly, but he bent his head to the 
storm, and pulled with a will in the most humble 
and obedient fashion. Presently a turn of the 
way brought them to a small hamlet of half a 
dozen huts, the largest of the houses being deco¬ 
rated with a bush hanging before the door. 

“A tavern! A tavern!” cried Hubert. “What 
say you to a halt here, comrades! I trow I could 
empty a flagon after our long walk through the 
forest.” 

The others were of his opinion, and the sled 
came to a stand at the door of the little inn, 
while the Foresters called for wine. 

As they stood there drinking, one of them 
suddenly raised a great shout. 

“Look!” he cried, “yonder comes a band of 
our comrades, and see whom they have taken!” 

Through the trees five more Foresters were 
approaching the hamlet, and among them 
marched two men, with hands bound and ropes 
fastened to their arms. 

“Good, good!” cried the Chief Forester, in 
delight. “They have seized two of the outlaws 
who lurk in the forest. What with yonder rogues 
and the young scamp we have seized, the Sheriff 
will be heartily content. Bravely done, lads, 
how did ye seize them?” 

Eager to hear how the outlaws had been 
taken, the Chief Forester and his men swarmed 


ROBIN HOOD AN OUTLAW 


15 


forward to meet the newcomers. They did not 
fear the escape of Robin Hood, lashed tightly in 
his wrapping of deer skin, and they did not 
dream that the Saxon woodmen would dare to 
make a movement without their permission. 

Yet it was the old man who had called upon 
the younger woodman to be patient who was the 
first to flee. When he saw the Foresters turn 
aside, he dropped his rope, and fled softly away 
on his sandalled feet, like a dog that runs from 
the lash. He sprang into a narrow passage 
between two huts, and vanished. The second 
old man saw nothing of this. His back was 
turned to his comrade, and he stood stupidly 
gazing on the crowd of Foresters as they called 
to each other, laughing and talking, and some 
of the newcomers drinking from the flagons 
held out to them. 

The young woodman, Will, made at first as 
if to follow his older companion, then cast a 
glance at the sled. Robin said nothing, lest he 
should call the attention of the Foresters, but his 
imploring eyes spoke for him. In reply Will 
dropped on one knee beside the sled, whipped out 
his broad, sharp knife, and slashed the bow¬ 
strings through with a few swift sweeps of the 
keen blade. 

Robin was free. His bow and arrows had 
been laid beside him on the sledge to be brought 


16 


ROBIN HOOD 


in witness against him before the Sheriff, but 
now he caught them up, shot between two of the 
upright posts, and leapt after Will, who was 
dashing into the narrow passage between the 
huts. 

“Hobb! Hobb!” called Will as he ran. 
“After us, man! After us!” 

Hobb was the third woodman, the old fellow 
who stood gazing like an ox at the meeting of 
the Foresters. The warning cry drew his atten¬ 
tion, and he looked round with a slow gape of 
wonder to see his comrades in flight. Unhappily, 
the voice of Will had caught ears for which it 
was not intended. The Chief Forester whirled 
on his heel, and gave a yell of anger at the sight 
which met his gaze. 

“The knaves are fleeing!” he roared, in a 
voice of thunder, “and they have freed the cap¬ 
tive. Back, lads, and seize them, alive or dead!” 

He clapped an arrow on his bow as he spoke, 
and drew the string to his ear. Hobb was now 
lumbering after his friends, for at last his slow- 
moving wits had grasped the fact that a flight 
to the forest was the safest thing for him. But 
the grey-goose shaft was too swift by far. It 
hummed after him with the tremendous speed 
of an arrow just leaving the bow, struck him 
squarely between the shoulders, and he pitched 
forward on his face and lay still, the grey-goose 


ROBIN HOOD AN OUTLAW 17 

shaft quivering as it stood upright from his 
back. 

When Robin ran through the narrow pass¬ 
age between the houses he came to a small court¬ 
yard, over the further wall of which Will the 
woodman was already climbing: the old man had 
completely disappeared. Robin bounded across 
the little courtyard, put his foot on a crossbar 
of the wooden paling which formed the wall, and 
was over in a twinkling. Beyond lay a stretch of 
open ground, and across that the old man was 
running nimbly, with Will some distance behind. 

Robin followed them at full speed, running 
his hardest for the shelter of the wood toward 
which his companions were making. He was 
just on the edge of the trees when he heard a 
shout behind him. He glanced back, and saw five 
or six heads spring to sight over the palisade. 
The Foresters were after them: but Robin 
shouted back a gay defiance, for among the wood¬ 
land it would be difficult to track him, and he 
knew that he was within arm’s length of safety. 

He darted in among the trees, and saw Will 
a little before him, waiting for him to come up. 

‘‘This way! This way! ” called the woodman, 
and Robin followed. At the next moment Robin 
saw the old man trotting along a narrow path, 
and the two younger men ran after their guide 
for some ten minutes. The old man led the way 


18 


ROBIN HOOD 


to a swamp, where he leapt from tussock to tus¬ 
sock of grass, warning the others to jump exactly 
where he did, or they would sink in the miry bog 
and be lost. Then they gained firm ground again, 
and the old woodman paused beneath a huge oak, 
and sat down to rest on a great root. 

“Where’s Hobb?” he panted. 

“Dead, father,” replied Will; “the Chief For¬ 
ester took him with a shaft atween the shoulders. 
Hobb was slow to move.” 

“Ay, Hobb was always slow to move,” re¬ 
turned the old man. “Well, well, his fate will be 
ours if e’er we come in reach of a Forester’s long 
bow again. Ay, Will, I thought it was all up wi’ 
ye when ye dropped your hand to your knife. 
Yon Chief Forester is indeed a hard and cruel 
man.” 

“It was naught but your words, father, that 
kept me quiet,” replied Will. “It’s hard to be 
beaten like a dog for nothing at all.” 

Ay, said the old man, “we that once were 
holders of the land are treated as dogs, and worse 
than dogs, by our Norman masters. But we can 
never show our faces in the village again Will 
We must take to the forest, and hide there or we 
shall soon be lodged in Nottingham jail, waiting 
for the rope and Master Hangman, as an example 
to all Saxon hinds who dare to disobey their 
masters.” 


ROBIN HOOD AN OUTLAW 


19 


“And that, or even worse, would have been 
my fate, had it not been for, your brave and 
friendly deed in cutting me loose,” cried Robin, 
seizing Will’s hand. “A thousand thanks to you, 
and a thousand thanks again!” 

“ ’Twas naught,” said the woodman. “I did 
but give a slash or two with my knife. But how 
fell ye into their hands?” 

Robin told his story, and the Saxon wood¬ 
men nodded grimly. “ ’Tis all of a piece with 
their cruelty and treachery,” said Will. “Any 
trick will serve to lure us into their clutches.” 

The old man sprang up from the root where 
he had been resting. 

“Well,” said he, “we are out of their hands 
now, and must take care to keep out. Follow me, 
lads, and I will be your guide to a safer part still 
of the greenwood.” 

But Robin did not move. 

“By my faith, friends,” he said, “it goes hard 
with me to think of the two poor fellows still in 
their grip. I fear their fate is certain if they be 
carried to Nottingham.” 

‘As certain as gallows and rope can make 
it,” cried Will the woodman, “for they are two of 
the outlaws who range the hidden depths of the 
forest. There is bitter feud between them and the 
Foresters, and proud, too, will be the cruel Sheriff 
to get a couple of them into his clutches.” 


20 


ROBIN HOOD 


“Ay,” said the old man, “they be poor fel¬ 
lows driven from their homes by Norman 
tyranny and the harsh forest laws. Now they 
hide in the wood, and live on the King's deer, and 
are lost men if they fall into the power of the 
law.” 

“Guide me to the path they must take toward 
Nottingham!” cried Robin. 

“That can I easily do,” said the old wood¬ 
man, “or, for matter of that, my son could do it. 
But to what end? What can one man do against 
a whole band of the King’s Foresters?” 

“I know not yet what I shall do,” cried Robin, 
“but I cannot bear to think of the poor fellows 
being carried off as I was being carried off, and 
I will gladly venture a stroke on their behalf if 
opportunity should offer.” 

“Well said, comrade,” cried Will, “and I will 
be your guide. Father, betake yourself to the 
forest, and secure your safety. We will meet 
again at the Great Oak.” 

Upon this the little company broke up at 
once. Robin, led by Will, struck out by a new 
path back across the swamp, and the old wood¬ 
man betook himself to the depths of Sherwood. 

Within twenty minutes Robin and Will were 
approaching the little hamlet under cover of the 
trees, but on the opposite side from that by which 
they had escaped. Peering from the depths of a 


ROBIN HOOD AN OUTLAW 


21 


thicket, they were just in time to see the Forest¬ 
ers march away from the hamlet with their 
prisoners in their midst. The search for the 
fugitives had been given up at the edge of the 
dangerous swamp, and the band was now return¬ 
ing to Nottingham. They were leaving the sled 
where it had come to rest, and near it lay poor 
Hobb, just as he had fallen. 

“Rescue and revenge!” muttered Robin 
Hood; and Will nodded and repeated the words, 
but wonderingly, as if he could not divine in 
what manner they were to be fulfilled. 

“Now, Will,” said Robin, “describe to me 
exactly the road yon proud Foresters must fol¬ 
low to reach the town.” 

Will plunged into the description, and Robin 
soon raised his hand. “Ay,” said Robin, “that 
will suit me. A great open plain you say. Guide 
me there, Will, and let us gain it before the For¬ 
esters have crossed it.” 

Will Stutely, for that was the woodman’s 
full name, led the way, and they hurried through 
the trees, and gained the open plain just as the 
Foresters were in the very midst of it. Then 
Robin Hood left Will among the trees, and step¬ 
ped boldly into the open, and hailed the Chief 
Forester with a great shout.” 

“Ho, Forester!” he cried, “give up thy pris¬ 
oners, or it will be the worse for thee.” 


22 


ROBIN HOOD 


The Chief Forester could scarce believe his 
own eyes when he saw that Robin had come back 
alone, as it seemed, to face the great band of his 
enemies. But his anger was such that he made 
no reply; he only hastened to seize his bow and 
shoot the bold lad before he could retreat into 
the cover of the trunks. He drew his bow with 
all his strength, and loosed the shaft. But the 
distance was too far, and the arrow stuck in the 
turf twenty yards from Robin Hood’s feet. 

Then Robin showed them the power of his 
great bow, and the wonderful truth of his eye, 
for he laid a cloth-yard shaft on the string, and 
shot it without hanging for an instant on his 
aim. Then a great scream burst from the Chief 
Forester’s lips, and he went to earth, dragging 
madly at an arrow which had gone clean through 
his throat, and stood out a hand’s breadth be¬ 
hind his neck. 

And while the Foresters stood in wonder at 
that terrible shot, again Robin’s voice pealed out, 
“Loose ye the prisoners, or hold them at your 
peril!” 

He waited an instant, and let another shaft 
fly, and this went through the shoulder of one of 
the two men holding the nearest prisoner. And 
scarce had the arrow alighted than another shaft 
hummed among them, and smote the man on the 
other side of the prisoner; and the Foresters saw 


ROBIN HOOD AN OUTLAW 23 

that no man could stand beside a captive and 
live. 

Filled with fear at the deadly skill of this 
terrible young archer, the two men holding the 
second prisoner sprang away from him, lest a 
fourth shaft should light on one of them. Their 
motion of flight set two or three of the Foresters 
running, and the panic spread to the whole band. 
Away they raced across the plain, for they feared 
to stand before this mighty archer whose arrows 
struck them down, while none of them could 
reach him with a shaft. 

“They fly! They fly!” shouted Will the 
Woodman, in huge delight, springing from be¬ 
hind a bush, whence he had watched the whole 
affair. “By my faith, Robin Hood, but you can 
draw a long bow in noble fashion. Now I will 
lend a hand to the prisoners.” 

Will ran as hard as he could to the men, and 
cut their bonds with his broad knife. In a few 
moments he was back, the outlaws running with 
him. 

The two men were full of joy and gratitude. 
They thanked and blessed Robin Hood a hundred 
times, for they knew very well they would have 
been hanged out of hand as soon as they had 
been taken to Nottingham. 

“It is a wonder the Foresters did not slay ye 
at once upon taking ye,” said Will Stutely to 


24 


ROBIN HOOD 


them, “seeing that ye bear a wolfs head,* and are 
a mark for any man’s arrow.” 

“They had received the orders of the Sheriff 
to bring in any prisoners they might seize,” said 
the younger outlaw, a broad, stout young man, 
with a fresh-colored face and a merry eye, “and 
as sure as my name is Much, and that my father 
is a miller, I thought I should look out over Not¬ 
tingham market place through a halter. But not 
this time will it happen, thanks to the finest 
archer that ever roved in greenwood,” and he 
saluted Robin Hood once more. 

“Whither now?” cried the second outlaw. 
“We must all to cover, and that right speedily. 
These Foresters will raise the country on us with¬ 
out delay.” 

“True, true!” cried Will Stutely. “Come, 
Robin Hood, you must go with us, too, or your 
head will pay for this day’s work, if the Sheriff’s 
men can but once lay hands on you.” 

Robin Hood nodded, for he knew that the 
woodman spoke truth, and away they went at 
once into the depths of the forest. On their way 
they passed the Great Oak, where old Stutely 
was waiting for them. When he heard what had 
passed, he shook his head. “This countryside 
will be no place for us any longer. Any man who 
has taken the least share of this stand against 


*A term denoting an outlaw whom anyone might shoot on sight. 



ROBIN HOOD AN OUTLAW 


25 


our tyrants will forfeit his life. I shall go to my 
daughter’s house on the other side of the forest, 
and hide. And you, Will, what is in your mind?” 

“I am for the greenwood life, father,” cried 
Will. “From this day Robin Hood is an outlaw, 
and I shall follow him.” 

Robin was standing a little aside, leaning on 
his great bow. An outlaw! The word struck to 
his heart with a chill. Yet it was, it must be true. 
He would be outlawed for rescuing these prison¬ 
ers and for withstanding the brutal Foresters. 
Then his spirits rose, and he looked round him 
on the beautiful greenwood, the great branches 
of the trees tossing in the sunshine and wind, 
and thought of the bold, free life of the open 
woodland. “A thousand times better to be an 
outlaw whose hand must keep his head,” thought 
Robin, “than to be dragged off and clapped into 
the Sheriff’s dungeon at Nottingham,” and his 
heart became light, and he looked forward 
eagerly to the new life before him. 

The outlaws led him and Will Stutely ahead 
once more, Much the Miller’s son being the guide. 
For two hours they marched at a swift pace 
through the forest, and though there was never 
once the least sign of a path, Much strode on 
through glade and thicket as if he were follow¬ 
ing a highway. 

At length he paused in a small open space 


26 


ROBIN HOOD 


beneath a huge oak, and softly winded* the horn 
which hung at his belt. It was at once answered, 
and he went forward again. Within three hun¬ 
dred yards the little party entered a clearing 
made by chopping away a holly and hazel cop¬ 
pice which had clustered thickly about the foot 
of a rocky wall. Here they were at once chal¬ 
lenged, but upon the voice of Much being recog¬ 
nized, the challenger came forward, followed by 
half a dozen stout followers, every one with bow 
in hand and arrow on string, showing with what 
reception they would have greeted an enemy or 
a stranger. 

The outlaws raised a shout of joy to see their 
comrades back again, for news of their capture 
had already been brought to the camp. 

“Much and Wat are here again!” they cried. 
“Joy! joy! brave boys! How did ye escape the 
fangs of the Forest mastiffs?” 

“List to me, comrades,” cried Much. “I was 
saved by this youth, and in him I bring to our 
band the finest archer and the boldest heart that 
I have ever met.” He told the story and the out¬ 
laws shouted praise of the bold deed which had 
saved their comrades. 

That evening the outlaws were sitting 
around a great fire, making a merry supper off 
a fat deer which had been shot that day, and 


♦Blew. 



ROBIN HOOD AN OUTLAW 


27 


washing down their feast of fresh venison with 
great draughts of ale. Suddenly, amid the 
laughter and chatter, Much the Miller’s son 
spoke up in a loud voice: 

“Comrades,” he said, “do ye not remember 
that it was but last night that we talked over 
the matter of making choice of a leader to gov¬ 
ern our band, so that we might have order in our 
doings?” 

“Ay, ay,” called out a stout yeoman, “and 
the choice as good as fell on thee, Much, my bully 
boy.” 

“Then it shall fall on me no longer,” replied 
the miller’s son, “for Much has met his master 
this day. I give my word and vote for Robin 
Hood!” 

“And I,” cried Wat, “and if any man dares 
to say nay to that, he shall feel the weight of my 
little switch of crab.”* And Wat took up a huge 
quarterstaff, fully six feet long, and brandished 
it about his head as if it had been the little 
switch, as he called it in jest. 

But one outlaw, a tall, dark-faced man, shook 
his head. “I thought we half agreed that the 
best archer should be the captain,” he growled. 

“So it was said,” cried Much, “but nothing 
was settled upon. Well, I am content to leave it 
there. Yonder sits the best archer within the 


♦Crab-apple tree. 



28 ROBIN HOOD 

bounds of merry England!” and he pointed to his 
deliverer. 

“And how are we to know that?” grunted the 
tall outlaw. 

But Robin Hood struck in at once. “Nay, 
Much,” he said, “I will take no place here or else¬ 
where which I have not earned. It is true, then, 
that you had thought to make the best bowman 
the leader of your band?” 

“We talked of it as a way of settling the 
matter,” admitted Much. 

“Then let it stand,” cried Robin Hood, “and 
tomorrow we will shoot off our shafts man by 
man, and let the best shot win.” 

“Agreed, agreed! ” cried all, and the tall man, 
whose name was John Ford, shouted with the 
rest. And so, when supper was ended, they wrap¬ 
ped themselves in their cloaks, and lay down to 
sleep around the fire. 

The next morning the band of outlaws car¬ 
ried out the trial of shooting without delay. In 
a sunny glade they set up such a mark as they 
were used to shoot at, and called upon Robin 
Hood to show his skill by putting a shaft in the 
center of it. But Robin shook his head. 

“ ’Tis no test at all,” he cried; “anyone could 
hit that mark, and then several would succeed. 
Nay, nay, set up a mark, I say, which will end 
the matter once and for all.” 


ROBIN HOOD AN OUTLAW 


29 


“Set it up yourself, Robin Hood,” cried John 
Ford, who had hitherto been looked upon as the 
best shot in the band, and hoped to win the lead¬ 
ership. 

“That I will,” replied Robin Hood, “if it is 
agreed that I may do so.” 

“Ay, ay,” cried the outlaws, “set up the mark, 
Robin Hood!” 

So Robin took sprays of leaves and clusters 
of wild flowers, and wove a little garland or 
wreath. Then he bade Will Stutely take the gar¬ 
land and hang it from the bough of an oak at 
the far end of the glade. 

“Now,” said Robin, “I say that he is worthy 
of the name of an archer who can send his shaft 
through the ring of yonder garland, yet touch 
neither leaf nor flower.” 

The outlaws looked at each other in wonder. 
“Who could see such a mark?” cried one man. 
“It would need the eye of an eagle to take aim.” 

“Ay, and the strength of a horse to bend a 
bow to send a shaft to such a distance!” cried 
another. 

“I am out of it at once!” shouted a third, “my 
bow will not reach so far.” 

In the end only John Ford was willing to try 
his chance at the garland, and he fitted a new 
string to his bow, and chose the straightest, 
truest shafts from his quiver. The two competi- 


30 


ROBIN HOOD 


tors drew lots for the order in which they were 
to shoot, and John Ford had to shoot first. Each 
man was to loose three shafts at the tiny mark. 

Ford loosed his first shaft, but it fell a good 
ten yards short. He gave a grunt of vexation, 
and drew his string farther back, and shot 
higher, but still he fell short. A third time, and 
his arrow dropped under the garland. 

“I have gone as near to it as I may,” he cried. 
“ ’Tis the most puzzling mark I ever tried at. No 
mortal man, I believe, will ever compass it.” 

“Shoot, shoot, Robin Hood!” cried Much. “I 
saw thee loose four shafts in wondrous fashion 
yesterday, but this is another kind of mark to a 
man’s body,” and the miller’s son shook his head, 
as if in doubt that his champion had set up too 
severe a test. 

Now Robin Hood stood forth, and the out¬ 
laws watched him in utter silence as he raised 
the great bow, laid his body into it, and drew the 
string taut. The shaft hummed through the air, 
and a shout of surprise burst from every lip as 
it was seen to dart through the very center of 
the garland and stick quivering in the trunk of 
the oak. 

But the voice of John Ford rose above all. 
“Let him do it again! Let him do it again! ” cried 
the tall outlaw. “It may have been a happy 
chance. Let him loose his three shafts!” 


ROBIN HOOD AN OUTLAW 31 

“Willingly,” said Robin, and bent his bow, 
and sent a second shaft whistling through the 
garland, and then a third, nor did any one of the 
three touch leaf or flower. 

The flight of the third shaft was followed by 
a great shout of applause from the lookers-on. 
Every man there was an archer of more than 
common skill, so that all could appreciate this 
wonderful shooting, though none could hope to 
rival it. 

“Robin Hood for ever! ” they shouted. “Never 
was such archery seen before in Merry Sher¬ 
wood!” 

“Now,” cried Much, “what say ye, comrades? 
Is not this prince of bowmen worthy to be our 
leader and captain?” 

“He is! He is!” they cried. “We will live 
and die under Robin Hood.” 

The outlaws swore to be faithful and true to 
their young leader, and the first of them to take 
the oath were Much the Miller’s son and Wat, the 
two men he had saved from the Foresters. Next 
came John Ford, who had been wholly won over 
by Robin’s wonderful skill with the bow, and then 
Will Stutely, his companion in the flight to the 
forest, and lastly the remainder of the band. 

“Listen to me, my comrades,” cried Robin, 
when all had given their fealty. “These be the 
laws that all in our band must follow. First, we 

















































ROBIN HOOD AN OUTLAW 


33 


will wage war on all the Norman tyrants who are 
enriching themselves with spoils torn from the 
rightful owners of the soil, our Saxon brethren. 
Second, we will offer no violence to any poor or 
needy man, but aid him with the wealth we may 
gain from Norman sheriff or baron or church¬ 
man. Third, that no woman, rich or poor, Nor¬ 
man or Saxon, shall have aught to fear from us. 
These be the laws of our fellowship.” 

And the outlaws agreed to obey Robin’s 
orders in every particular. They were still gath¬ 
ered around the garland talking of the wonder¬ 
ful feat which had been performed when a small 
bent man came shuffling through the trees. 

“Who is this coming?” cried Will Stutely, 
who was the first to see him. 

“A friend,” replied Much; “he is one Lobb, a 
cobbler, of Nottingham. He watches for us in 
the town, and is a sworn gossip of some of the 
Sheriff’s men. From them he learns what the 
Sheriff thinks of doing against us, and then 
warns us that we may secure our safety. How 
now, Lobb?” he cried, as the little man came up. 
“What news bring ye?” 

“Look out for yourselves, say I,” replied 
Lobb; “the Sheriff is drawing together a strong 
force of Foresters to march upon ye. He is in a 
terrible rage, for the Chief Forester and others 
have been slain in a fray yesterday, and he 


34 


ROBIN HOOD 


swears that he will have the heads of three out¬ 
laws for every man he hath lost. But most angry 
is he against some stranger, of whom I have 
never heard before. There be notices set up in 
the market place offering a great reward for one 
Robert Fitzooth, also known as Robin Hood. 
Whoever shall bring him in as a prisoner, or his 
head, shall receive three hundred silver pennies.” 

“A great reward, indeed!” cried Much. “So 
you may see what value the Sheriff puts upon 
you, master.” 

He spoke to Robin Hood, and the latter nod¬ 
ded, but made no reply. How strange it seemed 
to Robin that Lobb had seen a notice offering a 
reward for his life! It made him feel the reality 
of his outlawry. Then Much raised his bow, and 
shouted, “Ho, for the merry greenwood! Ho, for 
our brave leader, Robin Hood, prince of bowmen, 
and now in very deed prince of outlaws!” and the 
rest of the band joined in the cheer. Robin’s eye 
flashed, and his face brightened. He might be 
an outlaw, but with the vast forest open to him 
and a band of stout fellows to be his support, he 
feared no Norman Sheriff in the land. 


Chapter II 


ROBIN HOOD MEETS LITTLE JOHN 

T HE news that Lobb had brought from Not¬ 
tingham proved to be quite true. The 
Sheriff sent a great band of well-armed 
men against the outlaws, a band so strong that 
the outlaws had to leave Sherwood for a time, 
and seek refuge in another great woodland, that 
of Barnesdale in Yorkshire. But they loved their 
haunts in merry Sherwood above all other places, 
and returned as soon as they discovered that the 
angry Sheriff had given up the chase. 

Now, Robin Hood saw that his band was not 
strong enough to hold its own with the Norman 
rangers, and he looked about for stout men who 
would be a gain to his fellowship. Many men, 
driven to despair by harsh and cruel lords, 
wished to join him, but he took none but such as 
were proved to be bold, stanch, and trusty. If he 
heard of any man who was strong and clever be¬ 
yond his fellows he did his utmost to draw that 
man to him, and he very rarely failed; so that, 
little by little, he gathered a powerful band of 
splendid archers about him, all picked men, of 

( 35 ) 


36 


ROBIN HOOD 


whom it was said that one of Robin Hood’s men 
was worth four common bowmen. 

Now it happened one day that Robin Hood 
went roving through the greenwood, and a num¬ 
ber of his men went with him. They came to the 
border of the forest, and looked out across the 
open country. 

“Stay among the trees, my men,” said Robin; 
“it would draw attention if a company should be 
seen marching across the fields. But I will go 
forward alone to see if any adventure may prom¬ 
ise for us. Perchance some rich knight or abbot 
may be on the road this fine morning, and we will 
lighten his swollen purse of its load. If I need 
ye, I will sound my bugle horn.” 

So Much and Will Stutely and Wat and the 
rest stayed in hiding in the forest, and Robin 
went on alone. He walked down to the high 
road, but it seemed empty, and he strolled along 
it. Presently he came to a place where a brook 
ran across the road. Horses went through a 
ford, but foot passengers could cross by a long, 
narrow, wooden bridge, without a handrail. 
Robin stepped on the bridge to walk across, and 
at the very instant that he did so, a huge fellow, 
a very giant of a man, stepped on the farther 
end. Each moved forward briskly, thinking that 
the other would give way, and they met in the 
middle of the bridge. 


ROBIN HOOD AND LITTLE JOHN 37 

“By our Lady,” thought Robin Hood to him¬ 
self, “this is a noble yeoman. Would that I could 
win him over to my side! I will see if he has 
mettle to match his size.” 

In truth such a man as the stranger was not 
often met with. He was head and shoulders 
taller than Robin, of immense breadth of shoul¬ 
der and depth of chest, long-armed and long- 
legged, and appeared strong as a bull. He had a 
pleasant face and a bright brown eye, but there 
was a quiet resolution in his bearing which 
hinted that he would be a very awkward person 
to cross. Robin made test of him at once. 

“Give way, my man!” he cried. “What 
meant ye by stepping on the bridge when you 
saw that I was about to come over, and that the 
bridge is not wide enough for two?” 

The stranger carried besides his sword, a 
huge quarterstaff, full seven feet long, thick and 
heavy, a tremendous cudgel. He now quietly 
leaned upon it, and smiled as he said, “And why 
should I stand aside for you, archer? Let me 
tell you that I have never stood aside for any 
man yet, and see no reason to begin this day. 

“What!” cried Robin; “you bandy words 
with me, do you? I’ll show you some right Not¬ 
tingham play, my fine fellow, big as you are, 
and with that Robin Hood slipped an arrow on 
the string of his bow, and drew it to his ear. 


38 


ROBIN HOOD 


“Now,” went on Robin, “back with you, I 
say! Your life is in my hands. I could send this 
shaft through your heart before you could lift 
your staff to fetch a single blow at me.” 

Robin did this to see if the stranger would 
show fear, but the tall man listened as calmly as 
if Robin had been giving him good day. 

“A coward’s trick that would be,” replied 
the stranger. “Here stand I with but a staff in 
my hand, and you threaten me with long bow and 
grey-goose shaft. A coward’s trick, I say!” 

“Nay,” quoth Robin, “I will gladly meet thee 
on thy own terms.” 

So Robin laid aside his great bow of Span¬ 
ish yew and his quiver of sharp-pointed arrows, 
and ran to a thicket beside the stream, and cut 
himself a stout staff of ground oak. When he 
came back with his stick the stranger was still 
resting on his quarterstaff in the middle of the 
bridge. 

“Here will we fight where we have met,” 
cried Robin Hood, “and the man who knocks the 
other into the stream shall be the winner.” 

“Agreed!” cried the gigantic stranger, and 
the two combatants faced each other warily, set¬ 
ting their feet cautiously on the narrow plank¬ 
ing, and grasping their staves about midway of 
the length in order to be ready for assault or 
defense. 


ROBIN HOOD AND LITTLE JOHN 39 


For a few moments the two champions 
whirled their sticks about, feinting, striking, 
parrying, each searching for an opening in the 
other’s guard. Robin was the first to get in a 
body blow. He pretended to strike at the 
stranger’s head; the latter raised his staff 
swiftly to parry, and Robin, changing his hold 
and the direction of his blow with wonderful 
speed and dexterity, caught his opponent a tre¬ 
mendous thwack across the ribs. 

The giant gave a growl of anger, and replied 
with such a terrific slashing cut that no man 
could have stood before it. But Robin dodged it 
nimbly, and replied with a smart rap across the 
shoulder. But even as this fell the stranger 
whirled his staff in his hands, and launched a 
shrewd stroke at Robin’s head. Nothing but 
Robin’s quickness saved him from being knocked 
headlong into the stream, and as it was he did 
not altogether escape. The big man’s staff 
glanced across his head, cut his crown, and 
caused the blood to stream down the side of his 
face. 

This put Robin in such a rage that he dealt 
a whole shower of blows at his opponent with 
such swiftness that the tall man was kept 
entirely on the defensive. He was forced to 
parry, parry, parry all the time. 

Time and again Robin’s quick staff got home 


40 


ROBIN HOOD 


on the big man’s body, but the tall fellow never 
gave way an inch, but fought stoutly on. Sud¬ 
denly the giant repaid Robin Hood’s many 
thwacks once and for all. Gathering all his tre¬ 
mendous strength, he brought down his great 
staff with all the power of his long arms and 
mighty body. Robin parried, but though his 
stick was held correctly, he might as well have 
tried to parry a thunderbolt. Down came the 
crashing blow. It broke Robin Hood’s staff in 
two, it fell with but little diminished force on 
Robin’s body, and hurled him flying into the 
brook. 

Beneath the bridge was a deep pool, arid in 
went Robin Hood head over ears. In a moment 
he came up gasping for breath. 

“Ha, ha, Master Archer!” laughed the 
stranger merrily; “where art thou now?” 

“By my faith,” replied Robin Hood, splut¬ 
tering and blowing, for he had swallowed a good 
deal of cold water, “methinks I am in the brook 
fairly enough, and thou hast won the bout. But 
I’ll freely say thou hast won fairly.” 

Then Robin Hood waded to the side, and 
climbed onto the bank, pulling himself up by the 
aid of a white-thorn bush which grew at the 
waterside. As soon as he was on the bank, Robin 
set his horn to his mouth, and blew the notes 
which formed his own bugle call. 


ROBIN HOOD AND LITTLE JOHN 41 


Scarce had the valley ceased ringing with 
the echo of the horn than his stout bowmen came 
in sight, Much and Wat and Will running ahead 
of the rest in their eagerness to gain the side of 
their leader. 

“Why, master,” cried Will Stutely, as they 
ran up to the place, “what is the meaning of this? 
You are wet to the skin, and the water is drip¬ 
ping from you. Have you been in the brook?” 

“Ay, that I have, Will,” replied Robin Hood, 
“and there stands the man who put me there,” 
and he pointed to the gigantic stranger. 

“Then in he goes, too!” cried Will, and Much 
and Wat shouted, “Ay, ay, ’twere foul shame to 
let him go scot free after treating our leader so. 
In with him, lads!” 

The stranger prepared to resist, but even his 
great strength would not have availed him 
against the crowd of angry yeomen, had not 
Robin Hood called upon them to desist. 

“Hold your hands, my lads,” said Robin, “ye 
shall do no wrong to this bold heart. It was a 
fair fight, and he won, and I owe him no grudge 
for it. Rather would I be friends with so stout 
a striker. Come,” and now Robin turned to the 
stranger, “join us, and be one of our band.” 

“First,” said the stranger, “who are ye? I 
have sworn to enlist under one man, and one 
man only, and in search of him have I come.” 


42 


ROBIN HOOD 


“I am Robin Hood,” said the leader. 

“Robin Hood!” cried the other; “oh, happy 
day! It is he for whom I search, and to Sherwood 
Forest am I making my way to enter his goodly 
company, if I may.” 

“Thou may’st in very truth!” cried Robin, 
“and gladly will I receive thee. Methinks such a 
recruit is not picked up every day. And what 
shall we call thee?” 

“My name is John Little,” replied the 
stranger. “I’ll serve thee well and faithfully, 
and here’s my hand on it.” 

When Will Stutely heard the stranger’s 
name he began to laugh. “John Little!” he cried; 
“by my faith, that name ought to be changed, 
and as he is a newcomer to our band, let him be 
christened anew, and I will name him.” 

“And what wilt thou call him, then?” cried 
Much. 

“Why, seeing that the infant is so puny, his 
name shall no longer be John Little, but he shall 
be called Little John.” 

The outlaws laughed at the idea of calling 
this giant Little John; but the jest pleased them, 
and the name was given to the new recruit. 

“Now for a jolly feast to finish off the chris¬ 
tening,” said Will Stutely; “it is not every day 
we get such a stout companion in our band, and 
we must have a revel in honor of it.” 


ROBIN HOOD AND LITTLE JOHN 43 


So they went back to the forest, and soon 
two fat does had fallen to their keen shafts, and 
were being carried to their hiding place, the 
great cave in the rock, which was their secure 
retreat. 

Here they built a great fire, roasted their 
venison, and feasted on the rich meat, washing 
it down with mighty draughts of nut-brown ale. 
And when the feast was over they sang to the 
music of the harp, and danced and enjoyed the 
frolic to their heart’s content. And high above 
them all rose the head of Little John, he who was 
to prove so stanch of soul and stout of hand, 
whose name was to fill the ballads with a 
renown second only to his great leader, Robin 
Hood. 


Chapter III 


WILL SCARLET JOINS THE BAND 

O NE day, soon after Little John had joined 
the band, he and his master, Robin Hood, 
took their bows and went in search of a 
fat buck, for the hollow oak which formed their 
larder was empty. 

About midday the two outlaws saw a fine 
herd of deer before them at the far side of an 
open grassy space in the forest. 

“Yonder is the buck we want, Little John,” 
said Robin Hood. 

He pointed to a noble stag, feeding quietly 
at a short distance from the herd of which he 
was the lord and master. 

“Then this is the best way to take him,” said 
Little John. “The wind is blowing from the herd 
toward us. I will work round till the great hart 
can scent me on the breeze. He will rush in this 
direction, and you will then have an easy shot.” 

They agreed upon this plan, and Little John 
was just about to move away when he stopped 
short and pointed, but said nothing. Robin Hood 
looked, and saw a young man step into the open 
( 44 ) 


WILL SCARLET JOINS 


45 


space from a forest path. The stranger wore a 
gay dress of scarlet, and carried a longbow, 
while a stout broadsword hung at his side. No 
sooner had he left the narrow path than his 
glance fell upon the herd of deer, and the great 
stag, which now raised its head and tossed its 
antlers at the sight of this scarlet-clad figure, 
stamped on the earth. 

“Who can this gay spark be?” said Robin 
Hood. 

“I do not know him,” replied Little John, in 
low tones. “He is not of the forest.” 

“By my faith, I should say not,” returned the 
leader; “yonder suit of scarlet shines like a fire 
among the trees. It were better for him to wear 
a dress of good Lincoln green if he wishes to 
walk in the forest. ’Tis some fop out of the town 
come to walk in the greenwood.” 

But just at this moment the two watchers 
saw a feat which brought a murmur of admira¬ 
tion to their lips. 

The stranger had strung his bow, snatched 
an arrow from his quiver, and laid it on the 
string. The movement had startled the stag, 
and he had given the alarm, and the whole herd 
was fleeing silently and swiftly. Several hinds 
had gathered around the mighty hart as if to 
protect their lord, and it seemed hopeless to 
think of getting a shot at him. But just on the 


46 


ROBIN HOOD 


edge of the trees the stag bounded out and 
headed the herd for a moment. That moment 
was enough. The string twanged, the arrow flew, 
and the stag pitched forward headlong, and lay 
still, the shaft buried up to the feather in his 
dappled side. 

“By our Lady, a noble shot!” murmured 
Robin Hood. “This is no fop from the town, Lit¬ 
tle John. Do you stay here while I go to speak 
with him.” 

So Little John remained in hiding in a 
thicket, and Robin Hood walked up to the 
stranger, who now stood beside the great deer 
which he had slain. 

“Well shot! Well shot!” said Robin, as he 
marched up to the place. “Yon shaft was 
loosed in the very nick of time, stranger!” 

The young man in scarlet looked coolly at 
Robin, but made no answer. 

“I love a bold bowman,” went on Robin 
Hood, “and draw to me all that I can. Wilt thou 
become a yeoman of mine, stranger?” 

“And pray who art thou?” said the young 
man in scarlet, and his tone was rather scornful. 
“And why should I become thy yeoman? It 
seems to me thou art some kind of Forester.” 

“Ay, truly am I!” replied Robin. 

“And herd the deer for the King?” went on 
the young man. 


WILL SCARLET JOINS 


47 


“Ay, truly—for the King of Sherwood!” 
chuckled Robin. 

“Whether King of England or King of Sher¬ 
wood, it is all one to me,” drawled the gallant; 
“take thy own way, good Forester, and trouble 
me not. I want naught to do with thee.” 

“And if I am not of a mind to take my way, 
what then?” demanded Robin. 

“Why, by my faith, thou wilt remain at peril 
of a beating,” returned the other. 

“This seems a cool fellow,” said Robin to 
himself; “I will make trial of him and see if his 
courage is as great as it seems.” 

So while the young man in scarlet began to 
examine the horns of the deer he had shot, as 
calmly as if no one stood within a mile of him, 
Robin secretly slipped an arrow on the string. 
Then he gave a great shout, “Ha!” and stamped 
his foot. The young man turned, and saw 
Robin’s bow bent, and an arrow laid full upon 
his heart. But he changed not his color, and 
gave no start, only said in rather a vexed tone, 
“Get thee gone, Forester! What means this 
fool’s play?” 

“Call you an arrow between your ribs fool’s 
play?” growled Robin Hood. “I am an outlaw, 
and the enemy of all such gay sprigs as you. 
Fling down your purse at my feet, and quickly, 
too, lest I loose the string.” 


48 


ROBIN HOOD 


“Ay, you are of that company, then?” said 
the young man in a tone of mild surprise. “Well, 
well, there is strong argument in a grey-goose 
shaft,” and he turned as if to unloose his purse 
from his girdle. 

But instead of unloosing the purse he clap¬ 
ped an arrow to his own bow, and bent the latter 
with wonderful speed; so there they faced each 
other, both in act to shoot, and Robin, who had 
never dreamed of letting his arrow fly, saw that 
he was likely to be paid back in his own coin. 

“Hold thy hand!” cried Robin; “hold thy 
hand! We are likely to slay each other, and 
there is no advantage in that.” 

“None at all that I can see,” replied the 
stranger, as coolly as ever, “but the game was of 
thy beginning, not mine.” 

“Then I end it,” said Robin Hood, and took 
his arrow from the string. The stranger did the 
same, and stood waiting. 

“You carry sword and buckler,”* said Robin; 
“so do I. ’Twere shame for us to part without 
seeing who is the better man.” 

So they betook themselves to a flat piece of 
turf beneath the wide-spreading branches of a 
mighty oak, and each man arranged his buckler 
on his left arm, and took his good broadsword 
in his right hand. 


*A small shield. 




tEfjen to toovlt tlicv toent, cutting null tfjcustturj, feinting mib panning 









I 







* 

V' 


















\ 










i 








. 

S' 






















* 

















WILL SCARLET JOINS 


49 


Then to work they went, cutting and thrust¬ 
ing, feinting and parrying. Clash! clang! went 
the heavy broadswords time and again on the 
stout bucklers, as the blows were deftly caught 
and warded off. So equal were the combatants 
that they fought for a good half-hour, and 
neither had been touched, nor had either of them 
given way for an inch before the other. 

At length the combat was ended by a lucky 
stroke made by the stranger. He cut at Robin’s 
head, and the outlaw’s buckler did not entirely 
check the blow. The point of the gallant’s sword 
snicked Robin along the top of the forehead, and 
the blood poured down and filled his eyes, so that 
he could no longer see to fight. 

As soon as Little John saw that his master 
was disabled, he sprang from his hiding-place, 
and ran up to the spot. 

“Give me your sword!” he cried to Robin 
Hood, “and he shall try a bout with me, master. 
I can play with sword and buckler.” 

“Nay, nay, Little John!” cried Robin Hood, 
wiping the blood out of his eyes; “there has been 
enough sword play. ’Twere shame to set a fresh 
man on one who has fought so long and so well. 
And a fair and honest fighter, too. He hath 
never offered a stroke while I have been at dis¬ 
advantage.” 

“I am bound to obey!” grumbled the big fel- 


50 


ROBIN HOOD 


low; “but I like it not that this gay spark may 
brag to his cronies that he drew blood from 
Robin Hood, and went unscathed for it.” 

For the first time the gallant in scarlet 
began to show interest. 

“Robin Hood!” he cried eagerly; “and have 
I met with Robin Hood and fought him and yet 
not known him?” 

“Why should you know me?” cried Robin. 
“Who are you?” 

“Who am I?” laughed the youth in scarlet. 
“Why, a few years ago you would have known me 
at once, and I you. Robin, have you forgotten 
Will Gamewell?” 

“Forgotten my only cousin!” said Robin 
Hood. “No, never. But can you be he? Are you 
the lad I used to go birds’-nesting with, and 
whom I taught first to draw a bow? Yes, I know 
your smile now, and your voice. Well, to think 
we should have fought each other.” 

The two cousins shook hands heartily, and 
then Little John took Gamewell’s hand in turn. 

“But what are you doing in the forest, 
Will?” asked Robin Hood. 

“Looking for you, Robin,” was the answer. 
“You must know that I am an outlaw, too. I have 
fled to the forest with a man’s blood on my hands, 
though it was not shed willingly. You remem¬ 
ber old Grimm, the steward?” 


WILL SCARLET JOINS 51 

“Ay, that I do, the scurvy old knave/’ replied 
Robin; “if it was he you killed, you had good rea¬ 
son for it, I warrant.” 

“You shall hear,” replied Will. “You know 
that our lands run with the chase of Baron de 
Lacy, our Norman neighbor. De Lacy has long 
coveted our estate to round off his great posses¬ 
sions, and as my father is now old, and has no 
children except me, the Norman thought to slay 
me, and then get a grant of our lands as being 
without an heir.” 

“The rascal!” said Robin. “But the trick 
hath been played before, and with success, too. 
Well, how did you fare with him, cousin?” 

“I was out shooting with the bow the other 
day,” went on Will, “and Grimm came with me. 
I was waiting at a gap for a deer to pass, when 
some feeling—I know not how it sprang up in my 
heart—caused me to turn, and there was Grimm, 
bending his bow, the arrow laid upon me. To 
save myself, I loosed a shaft at him, and we shot 
together. His arrow tore my doublet, but mine 
went through his body, and he was a dead man 
within five minutes. Yet in that time he con¬ 
fessed that he had agreed with De Lacy to slay 
me for a great reward and a high position in the 
Norman’s household.” 

“Foul Norman treachery!” cried Robin 
Hood. “They are ever ready to strip the Saxon 


52 


ROBIN HOOD 


by any means, and the fouler the practice the 
better they like it. And what happened to you 
then, cousin?” 

“Why, as ill-luck would have it, the manner 
of the steward’s death came to the Norman’s ear 
at once, and he set the sheriff speedily on my 
track. You see, his purpose would have been 
just as well served if he could see me strung up 
by a rope for what he called the murder of the 
rogue Grimm.” 

“Ay, ay,” replied Robin Hood, “that is easy 
enough to see. So you fled to the good green¬ 
wood, cousin? Welcome to Sherwood and to our 
forest company! This is Little John, the biggest 
of us all, and second in our band.” 

Will Gamewell and Little John shook hands 
again, and Robin went on, “But we will drop 
your old name, Will. ’Tis best to put aside a 
name for the owner of which the law is in hot 
pursuit; you come in scarlet, and Scarlet you 
shall be called. Will Scarlet art thou from this 
day, my cousin!” 

“Good!” cried Little John. “Will Scarlet he 
shall be in our band, master, and with a new 
name he shall be a new man, and free of the 
forest.” 

So Will Scarlet entered Robin Hood’s com¬ 
pany and swore to be true to the forest laws and 
the forest ways. “And I will give you the great 


WILL SCARLET JOINS 


53 


stag as my first footing,” laughed Will Scarlet. 
“Let it be for a feast of friendship on my join¬ 
ing your goodly company.” 

Robin Hood laughed and applauded the 
speech. “We were in search of venison when you 
appeared, Will,” he said, “and I had marked 
down this hart which fell before your strong 
bow. Now we will carry it to our meeting place, 
and it shall be as thou sayest. We will feast high 
to-day on this rich venison.” 


Chapter IV 


THE CURTAL FRIAR 

a IE fine day when the forest was at its 
greenest and loveliest, and the sun was 
casting a pattern of light and shade on 
the smooth greensward, Robin Hood’s men were 
in so joyous a mood that they resolved to make 
holiday. They ran races and jumped like so 
many merry schoolboys, they played with the 
quarterstaff, they wrestled, they danced, they 
practiced every sport of the forest. But at last 
they came to the sport which was nearest and 
dearest to their hearts, the use of the good long 
bow. They might try their hands at this or that, 
but in the end they were certain to betake them¬ 
selves with new delight to their beloved archery. 

Several parties went into the forest in search 
of deer, and one party was formed of Robin 
Hood, Little John, Much the Miller’s son, and 
Will Scarlet. Soon they saw a herd pasturing at 
a good distance, and Robin Hood said, “Which 
of you can kill a buck or doe five hundred feet 
away?” 

Instantly Will Scarlet killed a buck, and 

( 54 ) 


THE CURTAL FRIAR 


55 


Much killed a doe, but Little John drew his great 
bow and loosed a mighty shaft and sent it hum¬ 
ming through the heart of a big stag more than 
five hundred feet away. 

“Good shot!” cried Robin Hood. “God’s 
blessing on thy heart, Little John! I would go a 
hundred miles to find the man who could match 
you with the bow.” 

Will Scarlet began to laugh, upon hearing 
this speech. 

“You need not go a hundred miles, Robin,” 
he cried. “You can meet his match nearer than 
that!” 

“I know not where to go,” replied Robin 
Hood. 

“Why, to Fountains Abbey!” cried Will 
Scarlet; “there you may find a curtal* friar, who 
can draw a strong bow with any man. He will 
beat Little John, ay, or you either.” 

Robin Hood pricked up his ears when he 
heard this. His master passion to draw a stout 
fellow to him awoke at once, and he vowed that 
he would seek out this famous friar without 
delay. So he made himself ready for the journey 
and away he went. Robin was well armed, for 
the country into which he meant to venture was 
a dangerous one for him if he should become 
known. He wore a coat and cap of steel, a good 


*Short-frocked. 



56 ROBIN HOOD 

sword at his side, a buckler on his arm, a sheaf 
of arrows slung at his belt, and his trusty long 
bow at his shoulder. 

At last he rode into the beautiful dale where 
Fountains Abbey stood—and where its ruins 
stand to this day—and saw the river calmly glid¬ 
ing, a band of silver, through the sweet valley. 
He drew rein to glance over the scene and, as he 
looked, he saw a figure walking at the waterside. 

It was a strange figure, for though it was 
wrapped in the robe of a curtal friar with a cord 
round the waist, a steel cap was on the friar’s 
head, and a sword and buckler were at his side. 

“By my faith,” thought Robin, “this should 
be my man. If he be a friar, he has the air of a 
fighting friar, and he must be the man I seek. 
Now will I make trial of him.” 

So Robin sprang down from the saddle, tied 
his horse to a thorn, and went to meet the curtal 
friar. Robin followed a path which ran down 
straight to the river and then appeared on the 
other side. “There is a ford there,” thought 
Robin Hood, “and I am in mind to cross it dry 
shod, and the friar shall take me over. Now 
where is he?” for the burly form of the curtal 
friar had disappeared among the bushes that 
fringed the stream. Presently Robin saw him 
coming back; the friar was pacing to and fro on 
the river bank, reading from his missal; as he 


57 


THE CURTAL FRIAR 

came he began to chant a Psalm, and his voice 
was like the bellowing of a bull. Suddenly the 
friar’s voice stopped in mid-verse: he had gained 
the point where the road ran into the river, and 
there stood a stranger whose bow was bent, and 
whose shaft was pointed full upon him. 

Such a sight as this would have dismayed 
many, but the curtal friar took it very calmly. 
His round, red, plump face lost not a shade of 
color, his little, pig-like eyes, almost hidden in 
the fat of his cheeks, were filled more with 
amusement than alarm, and he thrust his steel 
cap back and scratched his bald, shiny noddle 
with one forefinger. 

‘T faith,” he said, “ye may put down that 
bow and arrow, my son. If your purpose be rob¬ 
bery, ’tis useless. Not the smallest coin have I 
about me, and ’twere trying to dine off a dry bone 
to rob a curtal friar, a man vowed to poverty. 
And if your purpose be not robbery, I know not 
why you should point a shaft at me, since never 
before have I set eyes on your face.” 

“Nay, friar,” said Robin. “I seek neither 
thy life nor thy money. I do but wish to have 
thy aid in crossing this ford, for I see that the 
water runs deep after rain. Therefore, take me 
on thy back and carry me over.” 

The friar said nothing, only pulled a wry 
face in so comic a fashion that Robin Hood had 


58 


ROBIN HOOD 


much ado not to burst into a fit of laughter. But 
the holy man carefully laid his missal down and 
prepared to take the outlaw on his broad, burly 
back. 

Robin Hood leaped merrily to his perch and 
silently the friar strode into the water and soon 
they reached the other side. 

When they were over the stream, Robin 
Hood sprang nimbly from the friar’s back and 
turned to thank him. But as he was doing so, 
he felt himself seized in a grip of iron, and saw 
a dagger at his throat. 

“What means this, friar?” he cried. “What, 
would you shed my blood? Know you not that a 
Churchman is forbidden to shed blood?” 

“The blame will rest on thee, my son, if 
blood be shed,” replied the friar with a grim 
chuckle. “Obey but my simple commands, and 
your skin is safe. Refuse, and I will slit your 
weasand* three fingers deep.” 

“And what dost thou ask?” cried Robin. 

“I have left my missal on the farther side,” 
said the curtal friar; “lend thy aid, I pray thee, 
to convey me over this rude stream that I may 
recover it.” 

This was a bitter pill for Robin to swallow, 
to be obliged to carry the friar back, but there 
was no dodging out of it; the knife was at his 


•Windpipe. 



































60 


ROBIN HOOD 


throat, and the curtal friar had the strength of 
a bull, as well as the voice of one. 

So Robin was compelled to bend his back and 
take up the enormous weight of the stout friar, 
who was almost as thick as he was long. It was 
a long time before Robin Hood forgot that trip 
across the ford with the curtal friar on his back. 
It seemed as if no mortal man could be such a 
frightful load as the friar proved. Robin was 
bent two-double under it, and every bone in his 
body seemed to crack under the weight of the 
friar’s burly form. Then Robin knew not the 
ford as the other did, and he floundered into 
holes and slid about on slippery stones, and time 
and again was within an ace of going down head¬ 
long into the stream. 

But the friar tugged his hair, jerking him 
up when he appeared about to fall, and pound¬ 
ing him with both heels like one urging a reluc¬ 
tant steed across. At length Robin, panting and 
gasping, came to the farther bank, and the friar 
leapt lightly down, for, unwieldy as this Church¬ 
man looked, he was as nimble as any. But as the 
curtal friar bounded to earth, Robin Hood 
caught him by the ankle and tripped him up, and 
the friar came to earth with such a bang that all 
his breath was driven out of him in an odd sound 
which was something between a squeal and a 
grunt. Then Robin Hood whipped out his sword 


THE CURTAL FRIAR 61 

and bestrode his fallen opponent, whose helmet 
had flown three yards away. 

“Now, friar,” he cried, “I think the game has 
turned my way again. I am still in mind to 
reach the farther shore. Wherefore promise me 
that you will once more carry me over, or I will 
cleave your bald noddle in twain!” 

“I promise,” gasped the curtal friar as soon 
as he could draw a breath, for he liked not the 
look of the heavy, shining blade, flashing above 
his bald crown. 

So once again the friar took Robin upon his 
broad back and strode into the stream. 

But in the middle of the stream the friar 
paused for a moment. Robin thought the holy 
man had halted to gain fresh foothold, and he 
laughed to think the friar and not he was 
floundering over the slippery stones this time. 
But his laugh was cut short. The curtal friar 
suddenly gave a tremendous jerk of his huge 
shoulders, and shot Robin Hood head first into 
the river. 

“Now,” roared the curtal friar, “choose ye, 
my fine fellow, whether you will sink or swim!” 
Saying this, he turned and bustled back to his 
own side of the stream. 

Robin Hood was washed to the other side by 
the strong current, and he caught hold of a bush 
of broom, whose long branches swept the water. 


62 


ROBIN HOOD 


Now he dragged himself to the bank, and scram¬ 
bled ashore. He turned at once to see where his 
cunning opponent was. There stood the burly 
friar, laughing all over his fat, red face to see 
Robin Hood climb to land with the water pour¬ 
ing from every stitch of his clothes. 

“I’ll soon make thee laugh on the other side 
of thy mouth, Jack Priest!” shouted Robin Hood, 
who was hopping mad after this great ducking. 

He caught up his bow and let an arrow fly 
with tremendous force. But it never reached its 
mark, short as the distance was, and so true the 
aim; for the friar raised his steel buckler and 
caught the arrow very deftly in the middle of it. 
And this he did time after time until Robin had 
emptied his quiver and never touched the fat 
friar once. And the friar sang, in his great, 
roaring voice, like a bullfrog in a pond:— 

“Shoot on, shoot on, thou fine fellow, 

Shoot as thou hast begun, 

If thou shoot here a summer’s day. 

Thy shaft I will not shun.” 

“Nay,” shouted Robin when his last arrow 
was sped, “if I cannot reach ye with a grey-goose 
shaft, friar, I will show ye a trick or two with the 
broadsword,” and with that he drew his sword, 
swung his buckler up, and leapt into the river. 
Seeing that the outlaw meant to assail him at 
close quarters, the curtal friar ran for his steel 


63 


THE CURTAL FRIAR 

cap and clapped it on his round, bullet head, and 
took sword and buckler himself. As he turned 
to the fray, Robin sprang to the bank and was 
upon him at the next moment. Then began a 
fierce and obstinate battle. The great broad¬ 
swords flashed and glittered as they were swung 
on high to deliver mighty strokes, and the steel 
bucklers rang again as the heavy blades were 
caught and turned aside. Up and down the bank 
the combatants swung to and fro, as they struck 
at each other, Robin leaping nimbly from side to 
side to seek some unguarded point of his oppon¬ 
ent’s defense, and the doughty friar turning and 
turning and meeting him face to face all the 
time. 

For a full hour swords struck and bucklers 
rang. They fought on the bank, in the water, 
waded ashore again, lunged, parried, smote, 
warded, lashed at each other with might and 
main. At last they were fain to pause and lean 
on their swords, so weary were they with this 
stern battle. 

“Beshrew me, friend!” said Robin Hood, 
“thou art to the full as bold a companion as I 
expected to find. A boon, a boon, I beg of thee.” 

“What boon dost thou ask?” said the friar. 

“Naught but this,” replied the outlaw. “Hold 
thy sword while I put this horn to my mouth and 
blow three blasts.” 


64 


ROBIN HOOD 


“Blow as thou pleasest,” replied the friar, “I 
care not for thy horn.” 

Robin Hood smiled, for he knew what his 
horn would bring. Then he set it to his mouth, 
and blew three mighty calls. The third blast was 
still echoing among the woods when fifty yeo¬ 
men, their bows ready bent, came racing over 
the lea. 

“What men are these,” cried the friar, “who 
come so hastily?” 

“These are my men, friar,” replied Robin 
Hood, “and they hasten to their master’s aid.” 

“And who art thou?” asked the friar. 

“Men call me Robin Hood,” quoth Robin, 
“and these bold archers are my companions in 
the greenwood.” 

“What is thy name, bold friar?” said Robin 
Hood. “Thou art a man after my own heart.” 

“I am called Friar Tuck,” said the curtal 
friar, “and these seven years have I kept this vale 
and beaten every man who hath ventured into it 
against my will.” 

“Come with us to Merry Sherwood,” cried 
Robin, “we need a priest, that we may not live 
like heathen in the greenwood. We are outlaws, 
and dare not venture to church in the town. But 
if you would join us, thou couldst sing us a 
Mass and read us a service, and ‘every Sunday 
throughout the year a noble shall be thy fee/ ” 


THE CURTAL FRIAR 


65 


“I will come,” cried Friar Tuck; “my heart 
leans toward your jolly brotherhood, and I will 
be your priest and father confessor. And I will 
bring my dogs, and we will range the greenwood 
with them and hold many a fine stag at bay.” 

And that was how the famous Friar Tuck 
joined Robin’s band in Sherwood, and came to 
have his share in many a song and story. 


Chapter V 


HOW ROBIN HOOD DEALT WITH SIR 
RICHARD OF THE LEA 

A FEW weeks after Friar Tuck joined the 
gay band of outlaws, Robin Hood wrapped 
in deep thought was leaning against a tree 
one hot noontide. Presently Little John came 
up to him. 

“Master,” said the great fellow, “it seems to 
me you would be better making a good dinner 
than standing here alone. And a dinner is mak¬ 
ing ready to which a king might be proud to sit 
down. One man has brought in venison, and an¬ 
other birds, until we enjoy such plenty that a 
man may have what he wishes.” 

“True, Little John,” said the outlaw, “but for 
all that I have no mind to sit down to dinner 
alone. I wish you could seize some baron, or 
bishop, or Norman knight. Then he should dine 
with me, and afterward pay the reckoning.” 

“That he should, master,” laughed the giant; 
“and however heavy his purse might be when he 
came, it should be no load in his pocket when he 
went away.” 


(66) 


67 


SIR RICHARD OF THE LEA 

“Take thy good bow in thy hand,” said Robin, 
“and let Much and Will Scarlet wend with thee, 
and walk up to Watling Street and see whom you 
may meet.” 

So away went the three outlaws to keep 
watch on the great high road. First they saw 
a rich lady, riding a beautiful palfrey, and at¬ 
tended by several servants, pass by. They knew 
her for the wife of a Norman baron, but the out¬ 
laws made no attempt to detain her, for every 
woman was safe from harm at their hands. Next 
passed some peasants who were returning from 
a fair, where they had sold their cows. 

Little John and his companions were hidden 
among a thicket of hazels, and heard the men 
talk of the silver pennies in their pouches. 

But they only smiled at each other on hear¬ 
ing the simple husbandmen chatter together, 
and let them pass. Robin Hood never laid a finger 
on a poor man’s store. Then Little John raised 
his bow and pointed through the bushes. Much 
and Will looked, and saw a knight riding slowly 
towards them. At first glance he did not seem 
worth stopping: his dress was in disorder, his 
armor was rusty, he had a most forlorn and hope¬ 
less air about him. 

One foot was in the stirrup, the other hung 
limp and swayed as his palfrey ambled on. 

But Little John remembered his orders. Here 


68 


ROBIN HOOD 


was a knight, and that knight must dine with 
Robin Hood this day. So he stepped forward and 
bent on one knee, and with all courtesy begged 
the knight to stay. 

“Sir Knight,” said Little John, “I pray you 
come to the greenwood. There you will be heart¬ 
ily welcome. My master has been waiting dinner 
for you this three hours.” 

“And who is thy master?” asked the sorrow¬ 
ful knight. 

“His name is Robin Hood,” said Little John. 

“I had intended to-day to dine at Blyth or 
Doncaster,” replied the knight, “but I care not 
where I eat. Lead on, good fellow. I will come 
with thee to that good yeoman. I have heard he 
is a friend to the poor and needy.” 

When Robin Hood saw his men and the 
knight coming through the trees he went to him 
and welcomed the knight to the forest in most 
courteous fashion, and invited him to be the 
chief guest at the noble dinner now ready. The 
knight thanked him, and both of them washed 
their hands and sat down to the feast. There 
were steaks and collops of rich venison, roasted 
swans and pheasants, game pies and pasties 
made of many small birds, huge flagons of ale, 
beakers of wine, and flat, round cakes of excellent 
wheaten bread. 

The sorrowful knight was very hungry, and 


69 


SIR RICHARD OF THE LEA 

ate heartily of this good cheer, and when he had 
despatched his meal he looked a little more cheer¬ 
ful than he had done. 

“Gramercy, good Robin Hood,” said he, “I 
have not eaten such a dinner this three weeks. 
If ever you come my way I shall hope to give you 
one as good some day.” 

“Gramercy, good knight,” laughed Robin 
Hood, “your promise were poor payment for my 
dinner here. Surely you do not expect a mere 
yeoman to pay for the dinner of a worshipful 
knight. Wherefore, I must ask you to put down 
your purse ere you wend.” 

“That would I do at once,” replied the knight, 
“but I am ashamed to offer you the very little 
money I have.” 

“Tell me the truth,” said Robin. “How much 
have you?” 

“No more than ten shillings in all the world,” 
replied the knight. “Such money as I have is in 
the coffer slung at my saddlebow.” 

“Look to it, Little John,” said Robin Hood. 

The big fellow took the coffer from the sad¬ 
dlebow, spread his cloak on the ground, and 
emptied the coffer on to the cloak. 

“The knight speaks truth,” said Little 
John, when he had counted the money. 

“Come!” said Robin Hood, kindly, to the sor¬ 
rowful knight, “tell us how you prove to be in 


70 ROBIN HOOD 

such low estate. Your clothes are very thin, your 
purse is all but empty, and you are very sad. 
Come, tell us your troubles. Have you been 
careless of your own interests, or have you spent 
your money in riot and waste?” 

The knight shook his head, and sighed. “I 
will tell you all, and you shall judge, Robin 
Hood,” said he. “I am in distress this day for a 
matter of four hundred pounds. And yet two or 
three years ago such a sum would have been 
nothing to me. Now I have naught but my wife 
and children and that poor ten shillings there.” 

“How lost you your money?” asked Robin. 

“It was through my son,” replied the knight, 
and sighed again, “a gallant lad of twenty, of 
high spirit, and greatly skilled in the play of 
sword and spear. At a tournament where he was 
jousting he overthrew a knight of Lancashire, 
who felt deep anger at his defeat. As my son 
was coming home, the knight and his squire at¬ 
tacked him in a lonely place, but my son slew 
them both. Now, the knight had powerful 
friends, and they were furious against my boy. 
To save him I have been compelled to spend all 
my money and to mortgage my land. The Abbot 
of St. Mary’s lent me four hundred pounds upon 
my land, and to-day I should repay the money. 
But, alas! I have it not, and I must lose my home 
and land and become utterly ruined.” 


SIR RICHARD OF THE LEA 71 

“And your friends? ” said Robin. “Have they 
not come forward to your aid?” 

“Friends!” said the knight, bitterly. “No 
man had more friends, as it seemed, than I in 
the days of my wealth. But now all fly from me, 
and take no more heed of me than if they had 
never seen me in their lives before.” 

“ ’Tis the way of the world, Sir Knight,” said 
Robin Hood, and looked round on his comrades, 
whose faces were full of sorrow for the poor 
knight. All of them knew the rich Abbot of St. 
Mary’s, and knew well that land in his clutch was 
not easily released. 

Robin beckoned to Little John, and whis¬ 
pered in his lieutenant’s ear, and Little John 
went away. In a short time the latter came back 
with a heavy bag, which clinked as he set it down. 

“There are your four hundred pounds, Sir 
Knight!” said Robin Hood. “Never say there is 
no pity in the world. If you have not found it 
among your friends and the proud Churchman 
who grasps at your land, you have found it 
among the outlaws of the forest. Count out the 
money, Little John!” 

The money was counted, and the bag was 
found to hold exactly the four hundred pounds 
for want of which the knight was so sad. 

As for the knight himself, he was utterly 
dumb with surprise and gratitude. He could 


72 ROBIN HOOD 

only stare at the bag and then at Robin Hood, 
and then turn his eyes once more on the money 
in such wonder that he had no words to express. 

When at last he found his voice, he poured 
out a thousand thanks and blessings on the men 
who had saved his home and the land on which 
he supported his family. 

“His clothes are very thin, master,” whis¬ 
pered Little John, “give him a good suit, I pray 
thee.” 

So from the well-filled storehouse bales of 
cloth were rolled out, and Little John measured 
off a length of cloth. And right good measure 
it was, for Little John used his six-foot bow stave 
for a yard measure, and so gave double allow¬ 
ance. And they gave the knight a fresh horse, 
and a new saddle, and many other things, until 
he was as gallant and gay as before he had been 
shabby and sad. 

When he was ready to depart, he said to 
Robin, “I am Sir Richard of the Lea, and I thank 
you from the bottom of my heart for this most 
generous loan. Now, tell me when shall I return 
it, if my affairs should prosper?” 

“Meet me twelve months from to-day in this 
place,” replied Robin, “and we will talk of the 
matter again.” 

So Sir Richard went his way, the happiest 
man in England. 


Chapter VI 


THE WEDDING OF ALAN-A-DALE 

A FTER Robin Hood had seen Sir Richard of 
the Lea started on his way, he took his 
bow, and rambled through the forest. And 
as he stood in shelter of a bush beside a forest 
road that led from one small town to another he 
heard a merry voice singing a merry song, and 
the rich deep notes of a harp, very skilfully 
played, blended with the strong sweet voice of 
the singer. 

“By my faith,” quoth the captain of the out¬ 
laws to himself, “this is a jolly blade. If his purse 
rings as golden as his voice he should be a bird 
worth plucking.” 

He stood quite still, and presently the singer 
came into sight. 

“A strolling minstrel,” murmured Robin to 
himself once more; “gay enough to look at, but 
I’ll warrant you nothing at all in his purse.” 

The newcomer was a handsome young man, 
with flowing yellow locks, on which a gay bonnet, 
with a cock’s feather in it, was perched. He was 
clad in a suit of scarlet, and as he walked he ran 

6 ( 73 ) 


74 ROBIN HOOD 

his fingers over the strings of his harp, and 
chanted like a lark on a bright May morning. 

Robin Hood was so pleased with the merry 
carol of the light-hearted young fellow that he 
let him pass scot free. “Shame were it to harass 
one who sings so joyously in the greenwood,” 
thought Robin. “He shall go free for me,” and 
he stood behind the bush, without moving, and 
listened until the last sweet note, softened by 
distance, died away among the trees. 

Robin looked eastward, and saw that the 
shades of evening were closing over the distant 
woodlands. 

“The night is near,” said he; “no one will 
pass again this day,” and he returned to the meet¬ 
ing place, where a great fire was blazing in the 
quiet glade, and the yeomen sat about it laugh¬ 
ing and talking with each other. 

As it happened, the very next morning, 
Robin Hood, followed by Little John and Much 
the Miller’s son, went to watch the same road 
again. 

After a little time had passed, Robin Hood 
espied the same young harper, but what a won¬ 
derful change had taken place in his appear¬ 
ance! His head now drooped and with each step 
he sighed heavily. 

“What’s wrong now?” said Robin Hood to 
Little John. “I saw this fellow last night, and a 




gte f)t toalfceb fje ran fingers? ober tfje strings 
of Jjte fcarp anb cfjanteb Itfee a latfc 






















76 


ROBIN HOOD 


gayer young spark you never beheld. He made 
the woods ring with his merry song, and now he 
looks like one who goes to a funeral. Fetch him 
to me. I would know the reason of this sudden 
change.” 

So Little John and Much stepped forth, and 
bade the minstrel stand. But the minstrel was 
no coward. He bent his bow, and made ready to 
beat them off it they should attack him. 

“Nay,” said Little John, “there is no need to 
shoot. Unbend your bow. We mean you no 
harm, but our master wishes to speak with you. 
Look! he stands under the greenwood tree.” 

. So they brought the minstrel before Robin 
Hood, and the latter greeted him most courte¬ 
ously, and said, “Oh, hast thou any money to 
spare for my merry men and me?” 

“Little enough money have I,” replied the 
sad minstrel; “but five shillings in all and this 
ring.” 

Robin took the ring, and looked at it. 

“Why, ’tis a wedding ring,” he said. 

“Ay, truly,” replied the minstrel, “and I have 
kept it for seven years, and I thought to have 
used it to-day. But the maid has been taken 
from me, and anyone may have yon ring now. 
’Tis of no use to me.” 

“Tell me all about it*” said Robin. “Here is 
a change, indeed! Last night you were as gay 


WEDDING OF ALAN-A-DALE 77 

as a bird on a bough, and now you are mournful 
and sad.” 

“What!” cried the minstrel, “you saw me 
last night? Ay, truly, I was gay then. I thought 
I was about to wed the fairest lass in all the 
North Countree, but to-day my heart is broken. 
She is to be taken from me and given to a rich 
old knight.” 

“She has changed her mind very suddenly,” 
said Robin Hood. 

“Nay!” cried the minstrel, “she has not 
changed her mind at all. She loves me as truly 
as ever she did. But her friends will have noth¬ 
ing to say to me because I have neither land nor 
riches. They will force her to marry the old 
knight this very day,” and he sighed again, as if 
his heart would break. 

“What is thy name?” asked Robin Hood. 

“My name is Alan-a-Dale,” said the man. 

“Well, Alan-a-Dale, I am Robin Hood,” said 
the famous outlaw, “and if I help you and your 
true love what will you give me?” 

“Money I have none,” quoth Alan-a-Dale, 
“but if thou wilt help me I will swear ever to be 
thy faithful servant.” 

“Even so,” said Robin, “a good and true man 
to serve me is more to my liking any day than a 
purse of gold. Now, where is this wedding to 
take place?” 


78 


ROBIN HOOD 


“At the church beyond the wood,” replied 
Alan-a-Dale; “ ’tis but five miles from here.” 

“I know it well,” replied the leader, “and 
Robin Hood will be there.” 

He thought for a moment, then said to Alan- 
a-Dale, “Give me your harp.” 

The minstrel handed it over, and Robin 
stripped himself of all his weapons and gave 
them to Little John. Then he whispered a num¬ 
ber of orders into the ear of his lieutenant, and 
hastened away. 

When Robin came to the church he marched 
up the churchyard path, plucking at the strings 
of his harp, and fetching out deep ringing notes. 
This drew a stout figure, in fine robes, to the door 
of the church. It was the Bishop himself, who 
was going to perform the marriage ceremony, 
for he and the knight were old friends, and had 
been boys together. 

“I thought by the sound of the harp that the 
wedding guests were coming,” said the Bishop. 
“What doest thou here, and who art thou?” 

Robin took off his cap, and bent low before 
the Bishop. 

“Reverend father,” he said, “I am a wander¬ 
ing harper, and there be those who say I am the 
best in all the North Countree. I heard of this 
wedding, and hasted hither to make music on 
this happy day.” 


WEDDING OF ALAN-A-DALE 


79 


“Oh, welcome, bold harper!” said the Bishop; 
“ ’tis the music I love best of all. Come, strike 
thy harp, and let me judge of thy gifts.” 

“Nay, not so, Lord Bishop,” replied Robin, 
who, to tell the truth, could only twang the 
strings a little; “where I was brought up ’twould 
be thought ill-luck to begin the music before the 
bridal procession appears.” 

“Well, prepare thyself!” said the Bishop, 
“for here they come now.” 

At that moment an old, solemn, but wealthy 
knight appeared at the door of the church fol¬ 
lowed by a beautiful young girl. 

The church was filled with people, who had 
come to see the bridal, and when they saw the 
bride and bridegroom they looked at each other, 
and began to murmur what a shame it was to 
wed this pretty young lass to the withered old 
fellow. The knight was not only withered and 
spindle-shanked, but he had only one eye and a 
great hump on his left shoulder; while the maid 
was as pretty as a rosy dawn, and looked as 
sweet as newblown May. 

But in the presence of the Bishop in his 
robes and the wealthy old knight, no one there 
dared to speak his mind, save Robin Hood. 

“Well!” cried Robin, “many a bridal pair 
have I seen, but never a worse-matched couple 
than this.” 


80 


ROBIN HOOD 


“Silence, fellow!” said the Bishop. “The 
bride is in the church, and the marriage goes on 
at once.” 

“You speak truth, my Lord Bishop,” an¬ 
swered Robin, boldly, “the bride is in the 
church, and for all that has yet come and gone 
she shall choose her own dear.” 

“Prate not, fellow!” cried the Bishop, 
angrily, “but strike up your music as the bride 
goes to the altar.” 

“Ay, that will I,” laughed Robin, “but I 
must confess one thing to you, I love the horn 
better than the harp.” And, saying this, Robin 
pulled his bugle horn from under his cloak. 

He put the horn to his lips and blew three 
shrill blasts. In an instant, it seemed, twenty- 
four bowmen came running over the lea, and at 
their head as they entered the churchyard was 
Alan-a-Dale. 

What an uproar and confusion there was 
when the four-and-twenty archers burst in at the 
church door! The Bishop was purple with rage, 
and the old knight shook with rage and fear 
mingled, for he saw the bride make one rush to 
the side of Alan-a-Dale, and saw, too, that the 
minstrel had a strong band of friends. Then all 
eyes were turned on the mysterious harper, 
whose bugle call had brought about this strange 
turn of affairs. 


WEDDING OF ALAN-A-DALE 81 

Robin lifted his hand, and for a moment 
there was silence in the church, for all wished 
to hear what he had to say. 

“Alan-a-Dale,” said the outlaw, “this maid 
is thy true love, as I hear say.” 

“She is, master,” cried Alan-a-Dale. 

“Then,” went on Robin, “if she is willing to 
wed thee, the wedding shall go on, with a 
change of swains.” 

“Who art thou,” roared the Bishop, “to come 
hither in the guise of a harping knave, and give 
orders like a king?” 

“A true word, Bishop,” replied the outlaw, 
quietly; “king am I among these stout bowmen, 
and men call me Robin Hood.” 

Robin Hood! The sound of that famous 
name struck everyone dumb with surprise. The 
people in the church stared at the great outlaw 
with all their eyes, and the Bishop and the 
knight were as silent from fear. 

“Now, Bishop,” went on Robin, “I bid you 
marry these young folk, who have plighted their 
troth to each other.” 

“That I will not!” cried the Bishop, angrily; 
“for one thing they have not been asked in 
church, and that must be done three times, 
by the law of the land, as thou well knowest, 
Robin Hood.” 

“True, Bishop,” replied the outlaw; “it must 


82 ROBIN HOOD 

be done, and it shall be done at once. Cry them 
three times, at once, Lord Bishop!” 

“That will I not!” roared the Bishop. 

“An you will not,” calmly replied Robin, “I 
must e’en make a bishop of mine own. Pluck off 
his gown!” He pointed to the Bishop, and the 
great man’s gown was plucked off at once by two 
stout bowmen. 

“ ’Tis the cowl that makes the monk, and the 
cope that makes the Bishop,” quoth Robin Hood, 
laughingly. “Now, Little John, don the Bishop’s 
robe at once, and take his place.” 

Little John grinned, and put the Bishop’s 
robe on. He looked so queer in it that everyone 
began to laugh. 

“Now, up with thee, and cry this young 
couple in church the three times needed!” said 
his master, and Little John went into the choir. 
All the lookers-on shouted with laughter when 
they saw Little John in the Bishop’s robe and the 
Bishop’s place, crying the names of the young 
people in church, for he did it so comically and 
cut such an odd figure in his Churchman’s dress. 

Little John took his task very earnestly, and 
for fear three times should not be enough he 
went on and on, until he had cried them seven 
times, amid great merriment. Then Robin called 
on him to come down, and turned to the Bishop. 

“Now, Lord Bishop!” he said; “choose ye and 


WEDDING OF ALAN-A-DALE 83 

choose quickly. Will ye marry these true lovers 
or come to the greenwood with me as a 
prisoner?” 

The Bishop shook in his shoes at the idea of 
being carried off to Sherwood as a captive, and 
quickly agreed to perform the marriage. And 
when it came to the question, “Who gives this 
maid?” Robin Hood cried out: 

“That do I. 

And he that takes her from Alan-a-Dale, 

Full dearly he shall her buy.” 

And so Alan-a-Dale and his true love were 
married by the Bishop who did not wish to do so, 
and in face of the knight who trembled with rage 
to see his bride taken before his very eyes; but 
none durst lift a finger against the mighty out¬ 
law and his band of chosen archers; 


Chapter VII 


HOW ROBIN HOOD WON THE SHERIFF’S 
PRIZE 

A FTER the wedding of Alan-a-Dale, the 
Bishop posted off to Nottingham to make 
complaint to the Sheriff against Robin 

Hood. 

“Here you are, placed in authority by our 
noble King to keep order!” fumed the angry 
Bishop, “and you permit that sturdy outlaw 
Robin Hood to rule the country as if he himself 
were king!” And altogether the Bishop rated 
the Sheriff in such a fashion that the latter 
became very uneasy, lest the matter should be 
brought before the King. 

“If complaint is to be made to the King, and 
it looks very likely,” said the Sheriff to himself, 
“I had better go to the King myself, and explain 
what a difficult fellow to deal with is this Robin 
Hood.” 

So the Sheriff posted off to London and told 
the King that he could do nothing with Robin 
Hood, for the outlaws were so strong and bold, 
and knew every corner of the forest so well, that 
his men could not catch them. 

( 84 ) 


85 


THE SHERIFF’S PRIZE 

“What can I do?” cried the King. “Are you 
not Sheriff, in order to deal with these matters? 
You have all the power of the law behind you to 
punish those who injure you. If you cannot meet 
the rogues with strength, bethink yourself of 
some way of drawing them into your power in 
other fashion. In any case, get you gone, and 
let me hear that you have put them down, or it 
will be the worse for you.” 

Seeing that the King was angry, the Sheriff 
went hastily from his presence, and took the 
road homeward. Day after day, as he rode north 
towards Nottingham, did the Sheriff cudgel his 
brains for a plot by which he could hoodwink 
the outlaws, and at last he smote his thigh, and 
laughed aloud. 

“I have it,” he said, to the new Chief For¬ 
ester, who rode beside him. “I have it. I will 
draw those sturdy rogues into Nottingham town, 
as surely as the smell of roast meat draws a 
hungry dog.” 

“And how will you do it, master?” asked the 
Chief Forester. 

“In this way,” replied the Sheriff. “Thou 
knowest that Robin Hood and the rascals who 
follow him brag and boast that they are the best 
archers of all that ever shot at butt or deer. 
Now, I will proclaim a great shooting match to 
be held at Nottingham, and the chief prize shall 


86 ROBIN HOOD 

be an arrow with golden feathers and silver 
shaft. And he who wins that arrow shall also be 
hailed as the greatest archer of the land.” 

“I see, I see!” laughed the Chief Forester; “a 
proper bait to draw those bragging rogues to 
your hand.” 

“A certain bait!” cried the Sheriff; “it will 
prove that, mark my words. For they will never 
submit to see that title won without some of 
them making a trial to win it, and then when 
they come into the town I will have men who 
know them on the watch ready to seize them.” 

So the Sheriff went home; and soon the day 
of the great shooting match was proclaimed, 
and the news spread fast. Lobb the cobbler car¬ 
ried the news to Sherwood, and told the outlaws 
that famous archers from all the country round 
were coming to Nottingham to contest for the 
handsome prize and the famous title. 

“And the winner is to be proclaimed as the 
best bowman of the land?” said Robin. 

“Yes, master!” replied Lobb; “and it is said 
that all the best archers of the shires will try for 
the prize.” 

“Why,” said Robin, “I think we count our¬ 
selves as good shots as any, and ’twere foul 
shame to let the title be seized, and we make no 
effort to gain it.” 

“Have a care, master!” said one of his fol- 


87 


THE SHERIFFS PRIZE 

lowers, a stout bowman called David of Don¬ 
caster; “I have heard that the match is but a 
trick to draw us into the town, and so beguile 
us.” 

“That is coward’s talk,” said Robin Hood; 
“trick or no trick, I’ll be there.” 

“Yes, we’ll go,” said Little John, “and I have 
a plan in my head which will take us there in 
safety. We’ll leave at home our cloaks and 
doublets of Lincoln green, and dress ourselves 
like countryfolk going to the match. Then the 
Sheriff’s men will not know us. 

“One of us will wear white, another red, an¬ 
other yellow, another blue, and so disguised 
we’ll go to the contest whatever happens.” 

“Good, good!” cried the leader; “we will fol¬ 
low thy plan, Little John.” 

So, on the day of the great shooting match, 
Robin Hood and his best archers set out for Not¬ 
tingham. They did not march in a company, for 
that would have drawn attention to them, but in 
twos and threes scattered through the great 
throng of countryfolk going to witness the day’s 
sport. Not one man wore his dress of Lincoln 
green, but Little John wore a blue jacket and 
hood, Much the Miller’s son was in brown, Will 
Scarlet in white, Will Stutely in yellow, and 
marching alone was a man in a ragged red coat 
and hood, and that was Robin Hood himself. 


88 ROBIN HOOD 

When Robin came to the gate of the town he 
marched straight in, his bow over his shoulder. 
Beside the gate stood some of the Sheriff’s men 
who knew the outlaws. They were watching 
carefully to see if they could recognize their 
enemies amid the crowd which trooped into the 
place. 

When the fellow in the tattered red coat 
strode through the gate they glanced at him, 
but never dreamed it was their archenemy. 
Robin had a patch over his left eye, and he had 
let his beard grow rough and ragged for the 
occasion, and he plodded along in stupid 
fashion. 

“Look at yon fellow in red,” laughed a For¬ 
ester. “I verily believe every ragged rascal 
within a hundred miles is tramping hither this 
day in hope of gaining the golden arrow.” 

Robin heard these words, but only laughed 
to himself, and pushed forward to the place 
where the butts were set up for the match. Here 
sat the Sheriff on horseback, surrounded by a 
strong guard of his men, and, as the competitors 
gathered in a great crowd, the Sheriff peered and 
pried on every hand for some sign of the outlaws 
whom he hated. But, though his wily eyes 
searched the throng through and through, he 
could not see a single man who had the look of 
one of Robin Hood’s band. 


THE SHERIFFS PRIZE 89 

Presently the shooting began, and soon it 
was seen that one of the finest bowmen there was 
a famous archer called William of York. But, 
though William shot very finely, yet he could not 
get ahead of a band of country fellows in jackets 
of different colors. 

The people were delighted to see these 
poorly dressed men holding their own with the 
famous archer, and shouted their joy. 

One man cried, “Well done, Blue Jacket!” 
another shouted, “Brown is the best!” A third 
cried “Bravo! Yellow Coat!” and a fourth de¬ 
clared “There is no one who can compare with 
the man in red!” The man in red was, of course, 
Robin Hood who was in the lead at every shot. 

In the end the match lay between William of 
York and the archer in the ragged red jacket. A 
fresh butt was set up at a much greater distance 
than any had yet been placed, and the two arch¬ 
ers took their places ready to shoot. They were 
to loose three shafts each, and many good bow¬ 
men shook their heads when they saw how dis¬ 
tant was the butt from the shooting point. 

“ ’Twere a feat to reach the butt at that dis¬ 
tance,” they said, “without getting anywhere 
near the center;” and the crowd waited in silence 
to see the champions finish the contest. Behind 
the two competitors sat the Sheriff and some of 
his friends on their horses. 


90 


ROBIN HOOD 


“We have seen some rare shooting already,” 
said one of the Sheriff’s friends. “We could 
scarce have seen better if Robin Hood and his 
men had come to the match.” 

“Ay,” quoth the Sheriff, scratching his head, 
“I thought he would be here, but with all his 
boldness he did not dare.” 

Almost at the nose of the Sheriff’s horse 
stood the archer in the red coat, leaning awk¬ 
wardly on his bow, his mouth open and in a rus¬ 
tic gape, and his one eye staring at the distant 
butt. But lumpish and clownish as Robin made 
himself look, he had hard work to keep himself 
in hand when he heard the Sheriff’s jeer. He 
longed to turn and beard the Sheriff to his face, 
but it was too dangerous at that moment, and he 
kept quite still, but said to himself, “ ’Ere long 
thou shalt see, proud Sheriff, that here is Robin 
Hood.” 

William of York shot first, and shot very 
slowly and very well. He put two arrows in the 
white spot in the center of the target, and one a 
little outside. 

“Give up, Red Jacket!” shouted William’s 
friends. “Thou canst not mend* that shooting. 
Give up, and yield the prize!” 

But Red Jacket only grinned and shook his 
head. 


♦Beat. 



THE SHERIFFS PRIZE 


91 


“I’ll e’en try my luck,” he growled aloud in a 
broad North-Countree accent, and to himself he 
said, “Now, Robin, do thy best for the honor of 
Merry Sherwood.” 

So Red Jacket took three shafts in hand and 
discharged them so fast that the second was in 
the air before the first had reached the target, 
and so with the third. But, to the wonder and 
delight of the spectators, the first and second 
arrows struck out from the center of the target 
the arrows which William of York had placed 
there, and the third arrow lighted in the exact 
center of the white spot. 

“Red Jacket! Red Jacket!” roared the mul¬ 
titude. “He is the very prince of archers. Red 
Jacket has won the prize.” 

So brave Robin Hood won the silver arrow 
with the golden feathers. 

When the arrow was presented, the Sheriff 
said to Red Jacket, “Prithee, good fellow, join 
my band of Foresters. I would like to see so 
stout a bowman as thou art in my service.” 

But Robin shook his head, and said he must 
go home to his own master. Then the Sheriff 
thought that he was the serf of some lord who 
had obtained permission to come to the match, 
and pressed him no further. 

As the outlaws had come into the town, so 
they went out, in twos and threes, and returned 


92 


ROBIN HOOD 


every one in safety to the greenwood. There 
they laughed and jested merrily over the day’s 
sport, and admired the golden arrow—all, that 
is, but the winner himself, who seemed rather 
vexed. 

“You seem sad, master!” cried Little John, 
“and you should be the merriest of all, since you 
have won the arrow and tricked the Sheriff.” 

“Ay, that’s just where it is,” replied Robin 
Hood. “The Sheriff knows not how well we have 
caught him in his own trap. I like it not that 
he should not know that I carried off his arrow.” 

“Why, that is easily done,” cried Little John. 
“I advised you before, and I will advise you 
again. Write a letter to him and I’ll deliver it.” 

“You, Little John!” said Robin. “Nay. I’ll 
not have you venture back into that town.” 

“I’ve a better plan than that,” said Little 
John, laughing gaily, “I’ll stick it on the head 
of an arrow and shoot it into the Sheriff’s 
window!” 

This capital plan was at once carried out. 
The letter was written, and back went Little 
John, without changing his blue jacket, to the 
town. Near the wall was a lofty building, the 
house of the Sheriff, and Little John marked 
that a window of the great hall was standing 
open; the shutter which closed it at night was 
hanging back. The giant had already fixed the 




Wbt stfjaft fiummeti in at tfje tomtioto anti struck 

into tfje table before trim 






























































94 ROBIN HOOD 

letter to the head of a shaft, and now he drew 
his bow, shot the arrow clean through the win¬ 
dow, and trotted back to the forest. 

As it happened the Sheriff had just sat down 
to supper after a busy day, and he was raising a 
brimming horn of ale to his lips as the shaft 
hummed in at the window and struck into the 
table before him and stood there quivering. 

“What is this?” he cried. “An arrow shot 
into my hall? What does it mean?” 

“There is a billet at the head!” cried a serv¬ 
ant. “It is a message.” 

“Unroll the paper from the shaft and give it 
to me,” commanded the Sheriff. This was done, 
and the paper was handed to the great man. He 
ran his eyes over it, still holding the horn of ale 
in the other hand, and all the company looked 
eagerly to see what this strange affair meant. 
To their surprise, the Sheriff dashed down his 
horn of ale on the table with such force that 
the horn split and the ale flew in streams. 

“What is it? What is it?” cried half-a-dozen 
voices. “Is it ill news?” 

“Ay,” roared the Sheriff, trembling with 
rage, “ill news indeed! I had that arch rogue 
and strong thief at my very side to-day and he 
hath slipped through my fingers. Who, think 
ye, that Red Jacket was? None other than that 
rascal Robin Hood himself!” 


95 


THE SHERIFFS PRIZE 

Every face was turned to the Sheriff in won¬ 
der. That the famous Robin Hood! The rude, 
clownish fellow in the red jacket? Yet it must 
have been, for he had shot in so marvelous a 
fashion. 

“By my faith, Sheriff,” said one of his 
friends, “but we ought to have known it. Such 
archery did I never see in all my life before! 
None but Robin Hood could bend such a bow.” 

But the Sheriff took no heed of his friend’s 
words. He was in such a rage that he knew not 
what to do. As the old ballad says: 

“The Sheriff that letter had, 

Which when he read, he scratched his head, 

And raved like one that's mad." 

“I’ll lay plans for the knave no longer,” 
roared the Sheriff. “I’ll take him by the strong 
hand. Not another day will I live before I have 
marched upon the rogue. Trust me, I’ll dust his 
red jacket for him, and then hang him on the 
highest gallows ever raised in the good town of 
Nottingham.” 


Chapter VIII 


GUY OF GISBORNE SEEKS ROBIN HOOD 

T IE next day the Sheriff gathered a strong 
force of soldiers and archers to march 
into Sherwood to seek the outlaws. But 
the first thing of all that he did was to set up a 
notice proclaiming that three hundred pounds 
would be given for the head of Robin Hood. 

Now among the Sheriff’s friends there was a 
knight whose name was Guy of Gisborne. Guy 
was a fine swordsman, but a man of wild and evil 
life. He had brought himself deeply into debt, 
and was ready to do anything to gain money. 

When he heard of this great reward he 
resolved to try to win it, and he thought he had 
a good chance. He knew the forest well, and 
believed he could find the part which Robin Hood 
haunted. So he laid his plans with the Sheriff, 
and then went ahead by himself in disguise. 

“It is of no use for a strong force to march 
into the forest in the first place,” said Guy to the 
Sheriff, “for the outlaws can easily avoid them. 
I will go in advance as a spy to seek out the hid- 

( 96 ) 


GUY OF GISBORNE 


97 


ing-place of Robin Hood.” So Guy of Gisborne 
set off to the forest. 

Now it happened that morning that Robin 
Hood had been aroused from his woodland 
couch by the loud song of a thrush. 

“By my faith, I’ve had an odd dream this 
night,” said Robin, rubbing his eyes. “I thought 
I was fighting with two stout fellows, and they 
beat me and took my bow from me.” 

Little John laughed. “Dreams are nothing, 
master,” he said. “They are of no more weight 
than the wind.” 

“Nevertheless, we will go through the green¬ 
wood this day,” said Robin, “and haply we may 
meet the stout yeoman of whom I dreamed.” 

After breakfast Robin Hood and Little John 
set off into the forest together. At the same time 
Will Scarlet and two bowmen of the band went 
away in another direction. “We will beat up 
some game,” said Will, “and a fat buck or two 
will not come amiss. The larder hath a lean look 
at present.” 

So the two parties went their way, and after 
a time Robin and Little John entered a glade of 
great oaks. Almost at once they saw a very 
strange figure at the other end of the glade. 

“Is it man or beast?” cried Little John in 
wonder, “or is it an evil fiend? But stand you 
still, master. I will soon find out.” 


98 ROBIN HOOD 

Robin at once bade his follower not to go, 
declaring that he would undertake the adven¬ 
ture himself. Little John was somewhat of¬ 
fended, and, after a few sharp words had passed, 
he swung away in a huff and left Robin to him- 

self. . 

“I will seek Scarlet and his companions, 
said Little John. “I know the glade which they 
mean to beat for game.” 

So away went Little John through the forest 
and came to the glade where he expected to find 
his friends. He saw them, indeed, but it was a 
heavy sight. The three yeomen were flying along 
the glade as fast as they could set foot to ground, 
and there behind them came the proud Sheriff 
and seven score of his bowmen and spearmen in 
full pursuit. This was the terrible game which 
had been beaten up by the unlucky outlaws. 

Presently a great shower of shafts whistled 
after the fugitives. Little John gave a great 
moan as he saw two of his friends pitch head¬ 
long on their faces, each man with three arrows 
through his body. But Scarlet was yet un¬ 
touched, and he fled on faster and faster still, as 
the Sheriff roared, “Take him, too, my lads! Dead 
or alive, seize the rogue!” 

But Scarlet was so swift of foot that it was 
plain he would escape save for one man. The 
latter was far ahead of the rest of the Sheriff’s 


GUY OF GISBORNE 99 

band, and he could run with wonderful swift¬ 
ness; he was rapidly coming up with Will 
Scarlet. 

“Tis William-a-Trent!” muttered Little 
John, for he knew the speedy runner well. “He 
must not close with Scarlet, or Will is sure to be 
taken.” 

So Little John bent his bow and loosed an 
arrow straight at William-a-Trent, and the run¬ 
ner let out a great cry and went to earth with the 
arrow through his heart. As the old ballad 
says:— 


“It had been better if William-a-Trent 
To have been abed with sorrow, 

Than to be that day in the greensward glade 
To meet with Little John's arrow." 

Will Scarlet ran on and disappeared among 
the trees, and Little John gave a cry of vexation. 
For his bow, his yew bow, had failed him. It had 
snapped across under the strain of the last 
arrow and was worthless. 

“Bad luck to ye, most worthless branch 
that ever grew on a tree!” groaned Little John 
and tried to fly also, for he could fight no longer. 
But there burst through the bushes five or six 
spearmen and bid him stand. It was a scouting 
party of the Sheriff’s troops hastening back to 
their fellows on hearing the uproar of the 
pursuit. 


100 ROBIN HOOD 

Little John made a great leap for freedom, 
and would have burst away had not a fellow 
thrust out the tough ashen shaft of his spear 
and tripped up the mighty outlaw. Down 
sprawled Little John, and at the next instant the 
spearmen were all over him, clutching at arm 
and leg and body, and striving to hold him down. 
Five they were to one, but their numbers would 
not have brought them victory had not more help 
speedily arrived. Twice the giant fought his 
way to his feet with the spearmen hanging to 
him like dogs upon a lion, and twice they drag¬ 
ged him down. Then he worked one huge fist 
free, and two tremendous blows laid two assail¬ 
ants senseless at his feet. 

But at that moment up raced a dozen or 
more of the Sheriff’s men and hurled themselves 
upon him. To these tremendous odds even Little 
John was forced to succumb, and soon he was 
bound hand and foot, and lay helpless and at 
their mercy. 

Up came the Sheriff and laughed a cruel 
laugh. “One for the gallows, at any rate,” he 
said, “and a big one, too. Up with him, lads, and 
bind him fast to that tree. There he will be safe 
until we have some others to hang beside him. 
As for thee, thou false knave,” went on the Sher¬ 
iff to his prisoner, “thou shalt be drawn by dale 
and down and hanged high on a hill.” 


GUY OF GISBORNE 


101 


But, though death stared him in the face, 
Little John was no craven. He laughed and 
looked the Sheriff boldly in the eye. “If it be the 
will of Heaven,” cried Little John, “thou shalt 
fail of thy purpose yet, proud Sheriff, for all 
that’s come and gone.” 

But now we must leave Little John, a help¬ 
less prisoner in the hands of his cruel enemies, 
while we see how his master had been faring. 

Robin Hood went up the glade, and, as he 
advanced towards the strange figure, he soon 
made out that it was a tall, strong man leaning 
against a tree and wrapped in the oddest mantle 
that Robin had ever seen. For it was no more 
or less than a capull hide, the dried skin of a 
horse upon which the head, tail, and mane had 
been left. The stranger’s face looked out under 
the horse’s head, the mane flowed over his shoul¬ 
ders, and the tail dangled between his legs. A 
queerer figure Robin had never seen before. 
But the fellow seemed a man of his hands, for he 
bore a strong bow, and a sword and dagger hung 
at his side. 

“Good morning, good fellow,” said Robin. 
“I see you have a stout bow of your own there, 
and I should judge you to be a good archer.” 

" Tis a strong bow,” replied the other; “but 
I am not out after deer to-day. I have lost my 
way in this thick wood. Who art thou?” 


102 ROBIN HOOD 

“I am a yeoman of Locksley,” replied Robin. 
“’Tis a village on the other side of the forest.” 

“And do you know the forest ways?” 

“I dare swear that none knows them better,” 
replied Robin. “I will be your guide if you wish.” 

“Well, hark ye, good yeoman,” said the 
stranger. “I am in search of Robin Hood. Take 
me to the haunts of that proud outlaw, for I 
would rather meet with him than have paid into 
my hand forty pound good money down.” 

Robin looked at him more closely and knew 
him. “It is Sir Guy of Gisborne,” said Robin to 
himself. “He hath ever had the name of a traitor 
and an ill-liver. Oh, ho! I see why he had rather 
meet me than have forty pound. Belike, if he 
could cut me off by treachery, my head would be 
worth more than that to him.” 

“Why,” said Robin aloud, “if you are in such 
anxiety to see Robin Hood, I daresay I could 
guide you to a place where he can be met with. 
But I am not one who would be guide to a man 
who can carry a bow but mayhap cannot draw 
it.” 

“Can I not?” cried Guy of Gisborne. “Set up 
thy mark, fellow, and I will soon show thee 
whether I can shoot or no.” 

This was what Robin was aiming at, for he 
met no stranger in the greenwood but he ever 
loved to have a bout of archery with him. 


GUY OF GISBORNE 


103 


Well, a mark was set up, and soon the 
stranger found that he was no match at all for 
the yeoman of Locksley. 

“A blessing upon thy heart, yeoman!” cried 
Sir Guy, clapping Robin on the shoulder. “Thy 
shooting is beyond common. Were thy heart as 
good as thy hand, thou wert a stouter fellow than 
Robin Hood himself. What is thy name? I 
would fain know more of thee.” 

“By my faith,” cried Robin, “that will I not 
do till thou hast told me thine.” Robin thought 
the stranger would give a false name, but he did 
not. 

“I live near the hills and valleys,” quoth the 
stranger, “and when I am called by my right 
name I’m Guy of Gisborne.” 

“Ay, ay,” said Robin Hood. “I thought as 
much. I knew that no peasant wrapped in a 
horse hide would carry a knight’s bugle horn 
under his cloak.” 

“True, yeoman,” laughed Sir Guy, “and when 
I have seized the rogue, Robin Hood, I have but 
to sound this horn, and my friend, the Sheriff, 
who is in the forest, will know that I have won 
the day, and the great reward is mine.” 

The outlaw’s face flushed, and his eyes 
shone. 

“Then seize him, Sir Guy of Gisborne,” cried 
Robin, “for here he stands. I am Robin Hood!” 


104 ROBIN HOOD 

Sir Guy must have been suspecting some¬ 
thing of this and making himself ready, for 
scarce were the words out of Robin Hood’s 
mouth, and ere the outlaw had made a single 
movement towards his weapons, Guy of Gisborne 
whipped out his dagger and struck at Robin’s 
heart. Nothing but Robin’s matchless dexterity 
saved him. He sprang aside with wonderful 
quickness, and the keen blade flashed within an 
inch of his breast. 

“A foul stroke, Sir Knight!” cried Robin, 
“but a worthy stroke, indeed, for a traitor as 
thou art. To strike at a man who had not 
offered to touch his weapon! But now we will 
try it hand to hand.” 

Robin Hood had drawn his good broad 
sword, and Sir Guy of Gisborne was already hilt 
in hand. Without word or sound the treacher¬ 
ous knight attacked Robin Hood with the utmost 
fury and with the greatest confidence of an easy 
victory. He was no match for Robin with the 
bow, but he did not dream that a yeoman could 
stand two minutes before his sword. He was one 
of the best swordsmen in the shire, and had been 
long trained in the use of this knightly weapon. 

But two minutes passed, and five, and ten, 
and Sir Guy of Gisborne began to see that here 
would be no easy victory. Robin had been con¬ 
tent to stand on the defense at first, for the 


105 


GUY OF GISBORNE 

knight’s attack was so furious that the yeoman 
had all his work cut out to keep his head and 
body safe from that whistling blade. But soon 
the fury of attack failed, for Sir Guy could not 
keep up such a rain of blows, and, more than 
that, he knew too much of sword play to waste 
all his strength while his opponent remained 
almost fresh. But still the swords clashed to¬ 
gether briskly, and the fight went savagely on 
until Robin tripped over a root of the oak be¬ 
neath which they fought, and stumbled, and fell. 

Then Sir Guy showed to the full how brutal 
and unknightly was his nature. A true knight 
would have held his sword, in courtesy, and al¬ 
lowed his opponent to rise, but Guy of Gisborne 
leapt forward and struck a fierce blow at the 
prostrate man. Luckily, in his eagerness, he 
struck a little too soon, and Robin did not re¬ 
ceive the full force of the stroke, yet was he 
wounded in the side. 

Up went Sir Guy’s sword to deal a last mur¬ 
derous blow when Robin cried, “Ah! by our Lady, 
it was never a man’s destiny to die before his 
day.” 

And with that, he sprang like a wild cat 
straight at Guy of Gisborne’s throat, leapt inside 
the knight’s guard with his sword shortened, 
then drove the bright blade home through Guy 

of Gisborne’s body. So he who already thought 

8 


106 ROBIN HOOD 

himself to be the victor, became in that instant 
the vanquished and the slain. 

For a few moments Robin Hood stood look¬ 
ing down on the body of his prostrate foe, then 
the smart of his wound recalled him to his own 
needs. He stripped off his doublet and exam¬ 
ined the injury. It was more painful than seri¬ 
ous, a mere flesh wound, and he bound it up as 
well as he could, and took no more heed of it, for 
his mind was full of fear for the safety of his 
men. 

“The Sheriff with a strong band is in the for¬ 
est,” thought Robin. “Well, that tidings must be 
conveyed to my stout lads at once, lest some rov¬ 
ing parties fall into the hands of that old hang¬ 
man. Ah! and I must look out for myself, too.” 

Robin thought for a moment, then stripped 
off his doublet again and seized the capull hide 
of Sir Guy. In two minutes he had disguised 
himself so that he had the very look of Guy of 
Gisborne. “Now the Sheriff’s men will not stop 
me if I meet a band of them,” thought he. “They 
will take me for Guy of Gisborne in search of 
Robin Hood.” And away he went, carrying with 
him the bow and arrows and bugle of the fallen 
man. 

Robin was marching along the side of a hill 
when he heard in the distance shouts and cries, 
a confused uproar of voices; it was the Sheriff 



































108 ROBIN HOOD 

and his men in pursuit of Will Scarlet. Robin 
ran to the top of the hill and looked out. From 
this point of vantage he saw everything: there 
was Will flying in the distance, and there was a 
tall man being bound to a tree trunk. 

Just at that moment Robin saw a spearman 
lift his spear as if he were about to drive it 
through Little John’s body. It was done in cruel 
sport to try to make the prisoner change color, 
but Robin thought it was meant for a stroke of 
death. To draw the attention of the captors 
from their captive, he raised the horn of Sir Guy 
and blew a loud blast. His plan succeeded. 
Robin saw that all heads were turned at once 
toward the hill on which he stood. 

The Sheriff heard the note and clapped his 
hands for joy. “There is Sir Guy’s horn!” he 
cried. “It means the best of tidings, for he said 
he would never blow his horn unless he had slain 
Robin Hood. And there he comes himself, clad 
in his capull hide.” 

The Sheriff hastened to meet the strange 
figure, whose face was hidden under the head of 
the horse, and whose body was covered by the 
great skin and the dangling, waving mane and 
tail. 

“What cheer—what cheer, Sir Guy?” cried 
the Sheriff as they met. “Did you meet Robin 
Hood?” 


109 


GUY OF GISBORNE 

“Ay, ay, Sir Sheriff,” returned the man in the 
capull hide. “Guy of Gisborne and Robin Hood 
met sure enough. And if you will but go to a 
great oak two miles south of this, you will find 
one wrapped in Robin’s Hood’s mantle, dead, 
across the roots of the tree.” 

“Good news—brave news!” cried the Sheriff, 
clapping his hands. “Then this day will rid the 
forest of the two knaves whom most I feared. 
For if thou hast slain the master, I have seized 
the man. See, yonder great fellow tied to a tree 
is none other than Little John himself.” 

“Little John,” said the man in the capull 
hide; “is that Little John?” 

“Ay, it is,” chuckled the Sheriff. “Oh, happy 
day! ’Twill be the destruction of the band. 
Master and man gone at a stroke; the outlaws 
will fly from the forest, I warrant ye. But come, 
Sir Guy, thou wilt ask the reward of me, I trow?” 

“Ay, Sir Sheriff,” said the man in the capull 
hide. “I will ask a reward of thee, and it is this: 
I have slain the master; let me slay the man.” 

“But what of the four hundred pounds I 
offered?” gasped the Sheriff. 

“I want no penny of it,” was the reply. 

For a moment the Sheriff stared in purest 
wonder, then a cunning twinkle came into his 
eye. 

“Assuredly Sir Guy has gone mad, or is pos- 


110 


ROBIN HOOD 


sessed,” he thought. “I will grant him this wild 
freak and pocket the reward myself,” for the 
Sheriff loved only one thing beside himself, and 
that was his great treasure chest. So he made 
haste to grant the request. 

Then the man in the capull hide strode for¬ 
ward and stood in front of the prisoner. “He is 
a stout knave,” said the man in the capull hide, 
and Little John could not help giving a slight 
start, for he knew that voice. Then the head of 
the capull hide was raised as if Guy of Gisborne 
wished to have a good look at the famous Little 
John, and the prisoner stared calmly into a well- 
known face, and murmured to himself, “I see it 
is the will of Heaven that I should go free this 
day.” 

“I slew the master with the sword,” said the 
man in the capull hide, “but to the man I will 
take a knife,” and he drew out a long Irish knife 
with a broad, keen blade. 

The Sheriff and his men crowded closely 
around the man whom they thought to be Sir 
Guy, but he waved them all back. 

“Stand back—stand back!” he said. “If a 
man is about to die, I will go forward alone to 
hear his last words and wishes.” 

So he went forward alone with the great 
knife in his hand. And when he came to the side 
of the prisoner the knife flashed across the 













Ill 


GUY OF GISBORNE 

bonds, and the prisoner was free. Then Robin 
gave Sir Guy’s bow and arrows into the hand of 
Little John and drew his own from under the 
hide, and before the Sheriff and his men could 
move a finger the outlaws had shaft on string 
and were loosing their arrows among them. And 
Little John’s mighty voice burst forth, “A Hood! 
A Hood! Robin Hood!” And the head of the 
capull hide was thrown back, and a face was seen 
that was not the face of Guy of Gisborne, and 
one of the Sheriff’s men cried, “ ’Tis Robin Hood 
himself! An ambush! An ambush! Fly, com¬ 
rades, we are undone!” For in his fear he 
thought the whole of the outlaw band was upon 
them, and his fellows thought so, too, and be¬ 
fore the two mighty archers the great crowd of 
bowmen and spearmen turned and, fl ; ed. And 
where was their master, the Sheriff? Why, spur¬ 
ring his horse to full gallop over the forest turf. 

For, when he saw that Little John had pos¬ 
session of Guy of Gisborne’s bow and arrows, he 
fled followed by his men at full speed towards his 
home in Nottingham. But he did not escape 
altogether scot-free. For Little John sent a 
broad arrow humming after him. And the arrow 
took him through the right shoulder, so that the 
Sheriff fled back to Nottingham groaning in pain, 
and ruing the day that ever he started forth to 
seize Robin Hood. 


Chapter IX 


ROBIN HOOD MEETS A TANNER 

I N NOTTINGHAM town there was not the 
least doubt about their champion player at 
quarterstaff. If ever a stranger came there 
and challenged the players to a bout, the towns¬ 
men grinned and sent for Arthur-a-Bland. 
Arthur at once came out of his tanpit with the 
best will in the world, and took his great staff, 
and was ready for the bout. After it the 
stranger went away with sore bones, and Arthur- 
a-Bland, having tanned the stranger’s hide, went 
back to the tanning of cow hides. 

So great was his fame that only men from a 
distance could be induced to play a bout with 
him. All the local champions knew the terrible 
power of his great cudgel and gave him best 
man at once. 

Now, although Arthur-a-Bland was a cap¬ 
ital tanner, his heart was not altogether in his 
work. He loved the merry greenwood, and often, 
as he scraped a hide or was soaking his bark, his 
thoughts fled from the dirty tanpit to the pleas¬ 
ant depths of the forest, where the sun shone 
( 112 ) 


ROBIN HOOD MEETS A TANNER 113 

along the glades, and the dappled deer fled 
silently and swiftly under the shade of the 
mighty trees. 

One lovely summer’s morning he threw his 
work by, and resolved, come what would, he 
would spend this glorious day in the greenwood, 
and catch a glimpse of the wild red deer and of 
the free open-air life for which he longed. So he 
took his bow and arrows and great quarterstaff, 
without which he never moved, and set off to 
Sherwood to spend a day in the depths of the 
woodland. 

The day was very warm, and after Arthur-a- 
Bland had spent three hours or more walking 
deeper and deeper into the forest he was hot and 
a trifle tired, and he threw himself down to rest 
on a mossy bank under a hazel thicket. As he 
lay there he caught a glimpse of the sight which 
gave more pleasure to his eyes than anything 
else on earth; a herd of the graceful dappled 
deer moving slowly along a distant glade. 

Arthur watched them some time, and saw 
that the deer were coming towards him, and, as 
the wind blew from them to him, they were not 
likely to discover his presence. A lordly stag led 
the herd, and Arthur’s fingers itched for a shot 
at the splendid deer. So he strung his bow and 
fitted an arrow on the string and began to creep 
up-wind towards the herd. 


114 ROBIN HOOD 

Now Arthur did not know it, but a tall, well- 
built man, clad in Lincoln green, was watching 
his every movement. And the man was Robin 
Hood himself! 

At first Robin had thought it was one of his 
own men, but the tanner’s leathern doublet and 
hood soon put that idea out of his mind. 

“By our Lady, this is passing strange,” mur¬ 
mured Robin. “This fellow is neither one of 
mine nor is he a Forester. What doth he make in 
the greenwood? Marry, but the impudent knave 
is coolly marking down one of our finest deer.” 

When Robin said “our” deer, he meant him¬ 
self and the King. For Robin was by now so 
much a lord of the greenwood that he reckoned 
that he had equal rights in the deer with the 
King himself. So Robin was up in arms at once 
at the idea of some fellow in leathern coat and 
hood letting an arrow fly at one of his noble 
stags. So he stepped forward and called to the 
stranger: 

“Harkee, bold fellow, who are you who dares 
to poach so boldly? In sooth, to be brief, thou 
lookest like a common thief come to steal the 
King’s deer!” 

Arthur-a-Bland looked hard at the new¬ 
comer. 

“This is no Forester,” thought Arthur. “I 
know them one and all. I care not for anyone 


ROBIN HOOD MEETS A TANNER 115 

else.” So he spoke up boldly. “And who are you 
to bid me stand with such clamor that my shot 
has been spoiled?” 

“I am one who keeps this forest,” replied 
Robin Hood, “and I watch the deer for the King 
and for myself! Therefore, I must stay you 
from going deeper into the forest.” 

“Where are the others?” asked Arthur-a- 
Bland. 

“What others, fellow?” demanded Robin. 

“The others you will need at your back 
before you can stay me,” replied Arthur-a-Bland 
with a grin. 

Rob’s quick temper rose at once at the hint 
that he could not stop the stranger by himself. 

“Nay,” said he, “I have none at my back, nor 
do I need them. Tempt me not, fellow, to crack 
thy crown for thy insolence!” 

But Arthur-a-Bland, instead of looking 
frightened, only grinned the more. 

“Marry, my fine keeper,” said he, “you have 
a sword and a bow, but I care not for fighting 
with them. Did I not see you lay a quarterstaff 
on the grass yonder when you stepped forward 
to speak to me? That is the weapon with which 
I should wish to meet you.” 

“It will serve as well as another to teach you 
a lesson not to come meddling in the greenwood,” 
said Robin, and went to fetch it. 


116 


ROBIN HOOD 


The outlaw unbuckled his belt and laid 
down his sword and his bow beside it, then took 
his stout, oaken quarterstaff in hand and faced 
the tanner. Arthur-a-Bland had his staff ready 
poised, and held it in such fashion that Robin 
Hood knew at a glance that here was a good 
player. 

“Wait a moment/’ said Robin. “Fair play 
and Old England for ever! My staff is longer 
than thine, I think. Let us measure, and I will 
cut mine shorter, or it were foul play.” 

“Let the length pass,” said Arthur-a-Bland 
with a careless laugh. “Mine is long enough to 
drub you soundly. 

“It is of oak so free; 

Eight foot and a half, 

It will knock down a calf, 

And I hope it will knock down thee.” 

At this Robin’s quick temper was up again 
in an instant, and he let fly at the tanner with 
his quarterstaff, a stroke sudden as lightning. 
Arthur-a-Bland only partly checked it, and the 
heavy cudgel rang one o’clock on his pate and 
drew blood. But his return stroke was instant, 
and was so cleverly delivered that Robin failed 
to parry, and got a return knock on the head, so 
that the blood trickled down freely, and they 
were square, with a broken head apiece. 

That shrewd stroke and counter-stroke had 


ROBIN HOOD MEETS A TANNER 117 

taught both men that each had a tough oppo¬ 
nent, and now they faced each other warily, and 
made feint and counter-feint, blow and counter¬ 
blow, their tough oak staves ringing and rat¬ 
tling as they clashed together. 

Arthur-a-Bland had been expecting to gain 
another of his easy victories, for no common 
man could stand before him for five minutes; but 
he soon began to think this keeper the finest fel¬ 
low who had ever crossed quarterstaff with him. 

On his side Robin was of opinion that this 
fellow in leathern coat and hood was the tough¬ 
est blade he had ever met. Robin tried every 
trick he knew, but the other knew a trick worth 
two of it, and the outlaw got more than one or 
two shrewd bangs, while his staff hardly ever 
got home on the leathern coat. But Robin put in 
everything he knew, and strove with all his 
strength and skill to gain the victory. 

Around and around they fought, striving 
like two wild boars to injure each other. For 
more than two hours they struggled making the 
wood ring with the fury of their blows. 

At last these two well-matched champions 
fell apart from sheer weariness, and each leaned 
on his staff, gasping for breath, with the sweat 
pouring in streams down his face. 

“Hold thy hand, good fellow,” said Robin. 
“We’ll let this quarrel fall. We shall but bang 


118 ROBIN HOOD 

each other about in vain. I make thee free of 
Sherwood Forest.” 

“Thank you for nothing,” chuckled Arthur- 
a-Bland. “If freedom I’ve bought, I may thank 
my staff, and not thee.” 

“What are you, and where do you come 
from?” cried jolly Robin. “Let us know more of 
each other, I pray thee.” 

“I am a tanner,” replied Arthur. “I have 
plied my trade for many a year in Nottingham 
and if thou wilt come there I’ll tan thy hide for 
nothing.” 

“Come, then, leave your tanner’s trade,” 
cried Robin. “Come, live in the greenwood with 
me. I vow thou art the stoutest man of thy hands 
that ever I met since I gained brave Little John 
to my band.” 

“Little John, sayest thou?” cried Arthur- 
a-Bland. “Methinks I begin to suspect who hath 
played so stout a staff with me. And what is thy 
name?” 

“I am Robin Hood!” replied the outlaw. 

“Body o’ me!” cried the tanner, “and are you, 
indeed, the prince of the outlaws who roam the 
merry greenwood? My heart has been with you 
many a day, so here’s my hand. My name’s 
Arthur-a-Bland; we two will never depart.” 

“Welcome, Arthur-a-Bland, to our com¬ 
pany,” said Robin Hood, as they shook hands, 


ROBIN HOOD MEETS A TANNER 119 

“for you play as stout a staff as our own Little 
John.” 

Then Arthur said, “Prithee, tell me where is 
Little John? We are kinsmen and I love him 
dearly.” 

“What, you wish to see Little John?” said 
Robin. “That is soon done, for my faithful fol¬ 
lower is never at any great distance from his 
master.” 

And with that Robin put his horn to his lips 
and blew a long, shrill blast. In a short time a 
tall man came running through the trees and 
hurrying up to them. 

“What is the matter, master?” cried Little 
John. “Pray, tell me. You have cast aside your 
sword and bow and stand with staff in hand 
against this fellow. I fear all is not well with 
thee.” Little John might well say that, for the 
blood had run over Robin’s face and dried on it 
till he looked a strange and sorry figure. 

But Robin laughed, and said, “Indeed I have 
good fortune to be standing! This bonny blade 
beside thee is a master of his trade for he hath 
soundly tanned my hide.” 

“He is to be praised for being so clever as to 
do that!” cried Little John; “but he shall never 
dress down my master and think I will not take 
the matter up. If he be so stout, we will have a 
bout, and he shall tan my hide, too.” 


120 ROBIN HOOD 

“No, no,” cried Robin Hood. “There has been 
fighting enough. Besides ’twere shame for kins¬ 
men to meet in battle, for, as I do understand, 
he’s a yeoman good, of thine own blood, and his 
name is Arthur-a-Bland.” 

“What, my cousin, Arthur-a-Bland, the best 
quarterstaff in Nottingham town!” cried Little 
John. 

“Ay, Little John, I am here,” said the tanner, 
stepping forward and throwing back his leathern 
hood. 

“Welcome, cousin, to the forest!” called 
Little John joyously, and the kinsmen gripped 
each other’s hands, and Arthur said, “From this 
day a forest man am I, to live and die with you.” 

Robin Hood was delighted to get so bold a 
recruit, and Little John and Arthur-a-Bland 
were full of joy to meet again. And so happy 
were all three of them at this joyous ending of 
the matter that “Robin Hood took them both by 
the hands, and danced round about the oak-tree.” 

As they danced Little John struck up a jolly 
catch, and they made the greenwood ring with 
their voices as they sang: 

“For three merry men, and three merry men, 

And three merry men we be.” 


Chapter X 


HOW THE SHERIFF GAINED A 
QUEER SERVANT 

O NE day, a few weeks after Arthur-a-Bland 
joined the outlaws, a rumor came to the 
forest that the Sheriff was forming new 
plans and raising a great power of troops against 
his old enemies. 

“I wonder what the Sheriff is planning this 
time?” said Robin Hood. “We have had no word 
at all from Lobb the cobbler.” 

“But we’ll soon learn for all that, master,” 
said Little John. “This very day will I go myself 
in disguise to Nottingham and bring you all the 
news that may be gained in the market place and 
the ale house, and in one place or the other I 
shall learn what is in the wind.” 

“Have a heed, Little John—have a heed,” 
said his master. “I would not lose thee to gain 
all the news in Christendom.” 

“Never fear, master,” said the great fellow, 
“I will look after myself.” 

That afternoon there entered the gate of 
Nottingham a huge, tattered, crippled beggar 
0 ( 121 ) 


122 ROBIN HOOD 

man. He walked with a great limp, one shoulder 
was half a foot higher than the other, his face 
was drawn on one side, and he had a patch over 
one eye. The warders at the gate called some 
rude jokes after the ragged figure, but the beg¬ 
gar man took no notice, only limped humbly for¬ 
ward as if seeking a place of rest. He crossed 
the market place, turned down a side street, and 
made his way into a little alley. Here he paused 
before a small shop, a mere booth, closed at night 
by a wooden shutter. It was the cobbler’s shop, 
and, as a rule, Lobb the cobbler could be found 
there, busily stitching and hammering, but no 
sign, of him was to be seen now. 

The beggar man went through the shop and 
entered a small room behind. Here lay Lobb on 
a rude pallet. 

“What Lobb, art ill, man?” said the beggar 
man in a low voice. Lobb knew the voice, 
and saw through the disguise. 

“Ay, Little John,” he replied. “I have been 
ill some three or four weeks, but I am slowly 
mending now.” 

“Why, that is good,” replied the great fel¬ 
low. “We wondered that we had heard nothing 
of you, so I came into the town to see what was 
amiss.” 

“You do well to come in disguise,” replied 
Lobb. “I have heard of the fashion in which you 


123 


A QUEER SERVANT 

sent the Sheriff padding home with an arrow 
through his shoulder. It would be a short shrift 
and a long rope for you, my friend, if you fell 
into his hands.” 

“I believe you, Lobb,” said Little John laugh¬ 
ing, “and it is to learn something of the Sheriff’s 
movements that I have now come in.” 

“If he is planning aught against you, it is 
being kept very secret,” said Lobb. “There is 
nothing spoken of an excursion against Robin 
Hood’s band in the gossip of the town.” 

“Well, I will move hither and thither and 
see if aught fresh hath arisen,” said Little John, 
“so farewell, and take care of thyself, good 
Lobb.” 

The beggar man went back into the market 
place and sat down on the steps of the market 
cross, with his ragged cap in his hand. No one 
gave him the smallest coin, but he did not trouble 
about that, for he was more eager to listen to the 
gossip of the market people than to carry on his 
beggar’s trade. After sitting for an hour in the 
market place, he got up and sought an ale house, 
where he knew the Sheriff’s men went often to 
drink. 

He was about to enter the door when the fat 
landlord stopped him and bade him go about his 
business. 

“Get hence, beggar man! ” said the host. “I’ll 


124 ROBIN HOOD 

not have thee in here pestering my customers for 
alms.” 

“Nay, nay,” said the beggar man. “Good 
mine host, I come as a customer myself. What, 
do you think I have not the price of a pot of ale 
about me? Look here”—and the beggar man 
fumbled in the wallet at his leathern girdle and 
drew out a handful of small coin. 

Seeing the beggar man had money to pay for 
his ale, the landlord permitted him to go in, but 
would not let him enter the chief room. 

“Go in yonder,” said the landlord. “That 
place is good enough for such as thou art,” and 
the beggar man went meekly into a rude cham¬ 
ber beside the chief room, a place where two or 
three stools stood about an old broken table. 
Here the beggar man sat and drank his ale in 
great content, for, through an open door he 
could hear every word that was spoken among 
the customers. Two of the Sheriff’s men were 
there, but nothing was said of any raid upon the 
outlaws. Instead, the talk ran upon a great 
shooting match that was to be shot at the town 
butts the next day. In those days shooting 
matches were the dearest sport of the people, and 
no fair day passed without a contest among the 
champions of the long bow. 

The beggar man pricked his ears at the men¬ 
tion of the match, and murmured to himself, “A 


125 


A QUEER SERVANT 

great match in the wind, eh? Then I’ll be there 
if I can come at a bow by any means, for that’s 
the place where tongues will wag freely of what 
is in the wind.” 

It was growing dusk by the time that he had 
finished his ale, and the beggar man left the ale¬ 
house and crept back to the cobbler’s shop. Here 
Lobb made him a bed in the corner on a truss of 
hay and the beggar man lay down to sleep. 

The next day, at noon, there was a grand 
fanfare of trumpets in the market place. There 
stood three heralds in shining new tabards, blow¬ 
ing till their cheeks were as round as apples. 
Since early morning the market folk and the 
country people had been buying and selling, bar¬ 
gaining and chaffering; but now the serious busi¬ 
ness of the day was over, and the afternoon was 
to be given to sport. So there was a great crowd 
to listen to the proclamation of the games. They 
heard that the prize was to be a fine new horn 
filled with twenty silver pennies, and all agreed 
it was a noble reward which would stir the best 
archers of the town and countryside to give in 
their names. 

Beside the market cross sat a clerk with a 
sheet of paper, pen, and ink horn, and to him 
went the yeomen one after another to give in 
their names for the match. Among them 
marched the big, ugly, limping beggar man, a 


126 


ROBIN HOOD 


bow over his shoulder and a sheaf of arrows by 
his side: they had been lent to him by a friend 
of Lobb the cobbler. 

As he went up to the clerk a roar of laughter 
rose from the onlookers, and a yeoman who was 
about to put down his name hustled the beggar 
back roughly. 

“Stand back, knave,” said the yeoman, a tall, 
stout, red-faced man in the dress of a Forester. 
“How dare ye thrust forward in face of your bet¬ 
ters? And what dost mean in coming forward 
at all? Begone, and finish plundering the scare¬ 
crows amid the corn!” 

The crowd laughed at this jest cut upon the 
beggar man’s sorry clothes, but the laugh was 
checked when they saw the beggar man thrust 
out an arm strong as the bough of a great oak, 
and seize the Forester by the neck and twitch him 
aside as if he had been a three year old child. 

“First come, first served,” quoth the beggar 
man. “Let me tell you, my fine Forester, that I 
was the nearer the clerk, and, therefore, had 
the better right to be entered first for this merry 
play.” 

The Forester went red as fire with rage, and 
leapt at the beggar man and launched a tre¬ 
mendous blow at his face. 

“Right, right, Hal o’ the Croft!” shouted his 
friends. “Give the rogue a Forester’s knock!” 


A QUEER SERVANT 127 

But the Forester’s knock was delivered in 
vain. The limping beggar man dodged aside, 
and Hal o’ the Croft’s fist missed him by inches. 

“Run, beggar man—run!” cried a friendly 
bystander. “Hal will beat thee to a jelly with 
his fists an thou dost not escape.” 

“Nay, run will I not,” grunted the beggar 
man. “Form a ring, and Hal shall beat me as 
much as he pleases.” 

“A ring! A ring!” yelled the crowd in high 
delight. “Hal o’ the Croft is to fight with a big 
beggar man.” 

Nothing could have given greater pleasure 
to the onlookers than this unexpected encounter. 
A ring was formed at once, and Hal o’ the Croft 
stripped off his jerkin, and handed his bow to a 
companion, and spat in his fists, and promised to 
give that impudent beggar man the biggest 
thrashing a man could receive. In all Notting¬ 
ham town none could use his fists like Hal o’ the 
Croft, and many a victory had he won on this 
very spot. 

For his part the beggar man neither strip¬ 
ped nor straightened himself. He handed his 
bow to an honest country yeoman, and made no 
other preparation, only limped up and down his 
side of the ring in so comical a fashion that the 
spectators shrieked with laughter at his queer 
actions and queerer figure. 


128 


ROBIN HOOD 


When the fight began, the yells and shouts 
of delight rose from the crowd like smoke from 
a furnace. Hal o' the Croft let out sledge-ham¬ 
mer blows again and again at the big beggar 
man’s head, and not one blow got home. For the 
beggar man had such a limp that his head shot 
up and down a foot or more as he moved, and 
when Hal struck out for his opponent’s face it 
went down like lightning, and Hal hit the air, 
and at the next instant felt the beggar man’s 
big fist play tattoo on his ribs. And, lame as he 
seemed, the beggar man dodged about the ring 
in so quick a fashion, and withal, in so comical 
a style, his rags and bags fluttering as he hopped 
and limped, that the crowd shouted itself hoarse 
for joy at sight of this strange combat. Sud¬ 
denly it was ended. Hal, spluttering with rage, 
had chased the beggar man into an angle from 
which there was no escape. 

“Cornered! Cornered!” shouted the Forest¬ 
er’s friends. “Now you have him, Hal. Now give 
him the Forester’s knock.” 

But at this instant when all looked to see the 
famous boxer punish his opponent, that terrible 
beggar man uprose and, for the first time, his 
huge fist struck home. Crash! Every man in the 
crowd heard three of the Forester’s ribs splin¬ 
ter as if they had been dried sticks, and Hal o’ 
the Croft was hurled clean across the ring and 


A QUEER SERVANT 129 

dashed senseless to the ground. For a moment 
all stood silent in surprise at the strength which 
had dealt that tremendous blow. 

Then several Foresters pressed forward, 
cudgels in hand, to beat the beggar man who had 
overthrown their champion so easily. But this 
roused the temper of the crowd, and a loud cry 
of “Fair play! Fair play!” arose. 

“ ’Twas an honest blow and honestly dealt!” 
cried a townsman. “Hal only got what he in¬ 
tended to give. Fair play for the beggar!” and 
the speaker flourished a great quarterstaff 
round his head. 

This honest fellow was so strongly backed 
up by his acquaintances that the Foresters had 
to give up their purpose of beating the beggar 
man, and they drew off with sullen faces, bearing 
their defeated champion with them. 

“Beggar man,” cried the townsman who had 
stood up for him, “canst thou shoot as well as 
thou canst strike?” 

“Ay, master, that I can,” replied Little John 
boldly. 

“Well, then, neighbors,” said the good- 
natured fellow, looking round on his friends, 
“we’ll e’en attend the beggar to the butts, for we 
shall see shooting beyond common this day, I 
think.” 

His friends agreed, and a strong band of 


130 


ROBIN HOOD 


them marched with the beggar man to the scene 
of the shooting match lest he should be meddled 
with by the angry Foresters. So Little John 
entered his name and went to the shooting. And 
he had his name put down as Reynaud Greenleaf, 
which is as much as to say “Fox of the Green¬ 
wood,” and he chuckled to think how well the 
name fitted him. 

When the shooting match began there was 
first a contest at the butts, and here the beggar 
man shot best of all. The three best men at the 
butts were now set to shoot at the hardest mark 
of all—a willow wand set upright in the ground. 
Of the three only the beggar man could accom¬ 
plish the feat. His arrow split the willow wand 
as cleanly as if a sharp knife had been run 
through the centre. 

“This is the best archer that ever I saw in all 
my life!” cried tlje Sheriff, who was watching 
the archery closely. It was the first time he had 
been abroad since the wound in his shoulder had 
healed, and he was enjoying the day’s sport very 
keenly. 

“Come hither, beggar man!” he cried, and 
Little John came forward and bent his knee 
humbly before the proud Sheriff. 

“What is thy name, and where dost thou 
come from?” cried the Sheriff. 

“My name, your honor, is Reynaud Green- 


A QUEER SERVANT 131 

leaf, and I was born at Holderness,” replied 
Little John. 

“Thou canst draw a good bow, Reynaud 
Greenleaf of Holderness,” said the Sheriff. 

“Ay,” said Little John to himself, “or I would 
never have put a shaft through thy shoulder, 
proud Sheriff”; but he made no answer aloud, 
only bent his knee again in respect. 

“’Tis a shame to see so bold a bowman as 
thou art in rags and tatters,” quoth the Sheriff. 
“Come, good fellow, enter my service, and every 
year I will give thee twenty marks to thy fee.” 

Little John agreed at once, for in the Sher¬ 
iff’s service he felt sure he could find out all the 
things he wished to know. So he went to the 
Sheriff’s house and entered his service. And the 
Sheriff thought he had secured a fine archer for 
his bodyguard. And Little John grinned to him¬ 
self, and said softly, “Gramercy, proud Sheriff, 
Reynaud Greenleaf is your man, as you think. 
Marry, I shall be the worst servant to him that 
ever yet had he!” 

For some days Little John, or Reynaud 
Greenleaf, spent a fine time at the Sheriff’s 
house. He ate and drank of the best; he sat by 
the fire or in the sun, and never did a hand’s turn 
of work of any sort. This vexed the steward, a 
self-important fellow, who expected every serv¬ 
ant to run before him. But when he gave Rey- 


132 ROBIN HOOD 

naud Greenleaf a job, that big, lazy fellow would 
not touch it, and merely said, “I am an archer, 
Master Steward. Fetch me when there is shoot¬ 
ing to be done, and I’m your man. Till then, 
leave me alone.” 

One morning Little John lay in bed very late 
in lazy comfort, and when he got up he found the 
Sheriff had gone hunting. 

“So,” thought Little John, “the Sheriff has 
gone to hunt in Merry Sherwood, has he? Well, 
upon my faith, I, too, am longing to be back in 
the greenwood, and I may as well go!” For 
Little John had listened when many thought 
him asleep, and looked when many had thought 
his eyes closed, and he had neither heard nor 
seen anything to show that the Sheriff was plot¬ 
ting mischief against Robin Hood and the out¬ 
law band. He began to see that it was but a false 
rumor which had reached them in the forest. 

“I’ll make a good meal,” thought Little John, 
“and then I’ll betake myself to my master.” So 
Little John rose and went in search of bread, 
meat, and ale. 

Little John went to the buttery, and in the 
passage leading to it he met the steward. “Good 
Master Steward,” said he, “give me a hearty 
breakfast, I pray thee, for I am as hungry as a 
wolf in midwinter.” 

“As so you may be, for me!” cried the stew- 


A QUEER SERVANT 133 

ard. “The hour of breakfast is long since past, 
Reynaud Greenleaf, and the food is put away. 
Why, ’tis more like the time to dine!” 

“Call it dinner time then, as you please,” 
replied Little John, “so that I get the food. I am 
careless of the name of the meal.” 

“Neither bite nor sup shall you have!” cried 
the steward, “till my lord, the Sheriff, has come 
back from hunting.” 

“What!” cried the hungry giant, “and I am 
to fast till then? Master Steward, be wary and 
rouse not my anger, or I may crack your crown.” 

The other said never a word, but slammed 
the buttery door to, turned the key in the lock, 
and laughed in triumph. But the fat steward, 
who was also butler, laughed too soon. 

Little John dealt him such a blow that it 
seemed as though his back would break in two. 

Over went the steward in a heap in the cor¬ 
ner, and Little John stepped forward and gave 
the buttery door such a terrific kick that he burst 
it clean off its hinges. He stepped in, and licked 
his lips when he saw the well-laden shelves. A 
great venison pasty, with the crust well browned, 
caught his eye first, and he cut a huge slice of it 
with his knife and washed it down with a great 
black jack of humming brown ale from a barrel 
in the corner. Then he took a dozen or so slices 
from a cold haunch of venison, and washed these 


134 ROBIN HOOD 

down with a flagon of rich Canary wine, and so 
he tried this and that of all the daintiest, and 
made the finest meal he had ever stood up to, for 
there was no seat in the place, and he ate off a 
tall shelf for table. 

Now, while Little John was thus eating and 
drinking merrily, the cook came to the buttery 
in search of the steward. For a moment the cook 
stared in wonder at the scene. There was the 
steward groaning in the corner where Little 
John had flung him, and there was the big archer 
making havoc of the buttery shelves. This havoc 
went to the cook’s very soul, for the archer was 
disposing of the dainties which the cook had pre¬ 
pared for the return of the hunting train. The 
cook’s anger arose at once, and, as he was a stout 
and bold man, he sprang straight at the archer 
and fetched him three heavy blows across the 
shoulders with a stick that he held in his hand. 

“I make my vow,” cried the cook, “you are the 
sturdiest knave that ever dwelt in a household, 
to ask to dine in this fashion!” 

“I make my vow,” said Little John, as he 
swallowed a last mouthful, “that you are a bold 
man to disturb another at his meal. And before 
I leave the place I will make trial of you.” 

Little John and the cook thereupon drew 
their swords, and, neither dreaming of retreat, 
they set to. 








































































































































































































136 ROBIN HOOD 

For a good hour Little John and the cook 
fought sore together and neither had harmed the 
other, so well matched were they at every trick 
of fence. 

“Hold your hand!” cried Little John at last. 
“I make my vow, Master Cook, that you are the 
best swordsman that ever I met. Tis a waste of 
a stout blade that such a man as you should 
hang over pots and pans cooking fine things for 
other men’s stomachs.” 

“I like my task little enough,” replied the 
cook; “but what am I to do?” 

“Say you so?” cried Little John. “Why, if 
you can but shoot with the bow as you can play 
with the sword, I could take you to the green¬ 
wood, and find you a good master, whose service 
would fill you with delight.” 

“And who might he be?” asked the cook. 

Little John bent forward and whispered in 
his ear, “Robin Hood!” 

The cook gave a great start of astonishment, 
and for a moment stared at the archer in sur¬ 
prise. Well might he be filled with wonder at 
finding one of the outlaws in the service of the 
Sheriff. Then he raised his left hand. 

“Put up your sword,” said the cook. “I am 
your fellow from this day.” 

“Then join me in this pasty,” laughed Little 
John. “I had returned to it just as your stick 


A QUEER SERVANT 137 

fell across my shoulders, and our little bout hath 
made me hungry again.” 

So the cook laid aside his sword and attacked 
the good victuals instead, and fetched fresh 
dainties, and they ate and drank together, and 
resolved to fly together to the greenwood. 

“Nor will we go empty-handed,” quoth the 
cook. “I can show you the way to the Sheriff's 
treasure room.” 

“Would that I could get into it,” said Little 
John, “for they say it is full of fine silver ves¬ 
sels that the Sheriff hath purchased with the 
fines he wrings from poor people.” 

“The saying is truth,” said the cook; “but 
come now with me and I will show you the place.” 

They went to the treasure room, and found 
it guarded by a thick iron-banded door, the lat¬ 
ter held in place by hasps of steel with strong 
steel padlocks. 

“Fetch me the heaviest hammer you can lay 
your hands on,” said Little John to the cook, and 
the cook ran and fetched a great sledge hammer. 

High in the air Little John swung the great 
hammer and dashed the padlocks off the fasten¬ 
ings with a few tremendous blows. Then into 
the treasure chamber they went. 

“Fetch me the biggest sack you can lay your 
hands on,” said Little John to the cook; and the 
cook fetched a sack which would have held a 
10 


138 


ROBIN HOOD 


man. Then Little John put the Sheriff’s silver 
vessels and his money into the big sack and 
swung the sack on to his shoulders. 

“Now for the greenwood,” said Little John; 
and following the cook along a secret path to a 
little postern door, gleefully off they went. 


Chapter XI 


THE SHERIFF SPENDS A NIGHT IN THE 
GREENWOOD 

R OBIN HOOD, Much, Will Scarlet, and Friar 
Tuck were standing near their cave in 
deep talk. 

“I am uneasy about Little John,” said Robin. 
“It is some days since he went, and we have heard 
no word of him.” 

“No news is good news, master,” said Much. 
“If the Sheriff’s men had caught our bold com¬ 
rade there would soon have been a noise through 
the countryside.” 

“I am willing to go into the town and see if 
aught can be heard of him,” said Will Scarlet. 

“Nay, nay, I will go,” said Friar Tuck. “I 
can take on the guise of a wandering palmer, 
and in those weeds I can come and go in safety 
anywhere.” Then he started and raised his 
hand. “But, look yonder!” he cried. “Look yon¬ 
der! Talk of the stag and you see his horns. By 
my gown and beads, if yonder great fellow bear¬ 
ing a sack be not Little John I am no true 
Churchman.” 


( 139 ) 


140 


ROBIN HOOD 


His companions turned quickly and set up a 
shout of joy as the huge archer strode up to the 
spot. 

“Brave lad!” cried Robin Hood. “By our 
Lady, Little John, but I am glad to see thee back. 
And what tidings dost thou bring from Notting¬ 
ham?” 

“I bring, master, the Sheriff’s greetings,” 
said Little John, bowing. “I also bring the Sher¬ 
iff’s cook,” and he pointed to his companion and 
bowed again. “And, moreover,” he went on, “I 
also bring the Sheriff’s treasure.” 

He bowed once more, swung down the sack 
to earth, and its contents tinkled and jangled 
cheerfully. His comrades shouted applause and 
laughed aloud to see the beautiful silver vessels 
and the store of money which were drawn from 
the sack. 

“I fear thou hast brought none of these with 
the Sheriff’s good will,” chuckled Robin Hood, 
and at that moment up ran Will Stutely with 
news. 

“Master!” cried Will, “as I live, the Sheriff 
himself is hunting in Holly Chase. I have seen 
the train sweeping along under the trees and 
have run to warn you.” 

“Say you so, Will?” cried Little John. “Then 
on the faith of an archer, I say that we have the 
Sheriff’s cook, we have the Sheriff’s treasure, and 


SHERIFF IN THE GREENWOOD 141 


now we will have the Sheriff himself;” and away 
went Little John into the forest as fast as he 
could run. 

Little John never stayed his flying feet 
until he came to Holly Chase, and here he found 
the Sheriff riding slowly along in deep dudgeon. 
Hounds were baying and horns were blowing, but 
there was no sign that the huntsmen had met 
with any success. Little John hastened up to the 
Sheriff, and bent low before him. 

“Save you, my lord, save you!” cried Little 
John. 

“Ha, Reynaud Greenleaf,” said the Sheriff, 
“where hast thou come from?” 

“I have followed you to the forest, my lord!” 
cried Little John. “What sport? What sport, 
Sir Sheriff?” 

“None, none, good Greenleaf!” replied the 
Sheriff. “We have spent the day with hound and 
horn, and yet never a deer have we brought to 
bay.” 

“Why then, my lord, let me show you game!” 
cried Little John. “I have been in this forest, 
and there did I see a fair sight, surely a fairer 
my eyes never beheld. It was a mighty hart, of 
a green color, and with him seven score in a herd. 
His horns were so keen, master, that I dared not 
shoot at him for fear that he should set on me 
and slay me.” 


142 


ROBIN HOOD 


“A wondrous sight, indeed, Reynaud Green- 
leaf,” quoth the Sheriff, “and one that I fain 
would see. Lead me to that spot.” 

“That will I at once, master,” said Little 
John; “wend with me and I will give you a fair 
sight of that great hart.” 

Little John ran back at so smart a pace that 
the Sheriff was forced to put his horse to a gal¬ 
lop, and so master and man outstripped the rest 
of the company. Presently they came to a break 
in the trees, and there stood Robin Hood in Lin¬ 
coln green, his bugle in his hand. 

“Lo, master!” cried Little John, “here be the 
mighty hart!” 

And now Robin Hood sounded a note on the 
bugle and at once seven score archers sprang 
from the cover of the trees and hailed the Sher¬ 
iff with a great shout, which made the woods 
ring. The Sheriff’s men heard that shout and 
fled, but the Sheriff was in the midst of the out¬ 
laws, and knew that he was a captive. 

The Sheriff glanced about him in consterna¬ 
tion. “Woe betide thee, Reynaud Greenleaf!” he 
muttered. “Thou hast betrayed me, but thou 
shall’st suffer for it!” 

“I vow, master,” said Little John, “that you 
are to blame. For if you had ordered your house¬ 
hold better, I should have had my dinner at the 
proper time, and this would not have happened.” 


SHERIFF IN THE GREENWOOD 143 


“Welcome to the greenwood, Sheriff!” said 
Robin, but the Sheriff still pulled a very sour face 
and looked as if he feared what kind of welcome 
he would get. But he could not escape, and now 
Little John seized the bridle of his horse and 
marched forward, and the outlaws followed 
behind. A march of three miles brought them 
to an open space in the very heart of the forest. 
Here a great fire blazed in the center of the 
clearing, and a merry frizzling sound smote on 
the ears. The Sheriff’s mouth watered, for he was 
very hungry, and his eyes opened wide with sur¬ 
prise when he saw that his own cook was busy 
frying the good venison collops. 

“You shall have supper with us, Sheriff!” 
cried Robin Hood. “Our fare is but plain, but 
hunger will be a kingly sauce to this kingly 
feast, for such it must be when we sup on the 
King’s deer.” 

The Sheriff sat down on the foot of an oak, 
and looked round with a harassed air. He had 
made many attempts to seize these fellows, and 
now they had seized him. He knew their deaths 
would have been certain had they fallen into his 
hands, and he felt his head sit very uneasily on 
his shoulders now that he was in their power. 
Presently Robin Hood came up to him. 

“To supper, to supper, Sir Sheriff!” he cried. 
“Come, the good venison awaits us.” 


144 


ROBIN HOOD 


The Sheriff went at once, for he was very 
hungry, and besides he began to hope that the 
outlaws might spare his life; it seemed unlikely 
that they meant great harm to him if they began 
by offering him a good supper. 

The meal was laid on the turf, and at first 
sight of the dishes the Sheriff gasped in sur¬ 
prise: the venison collops were being served on 
dishes of solid silver. 

“Marry,” quoth the Sheriff; “here be splen¬ 
dor for the greenwood. I vow that these outlaws 
eat off plates of silver; the King himself could 
not be more finely served!” 

But when the Sheriff looked closer, and saw 
that it was his own silver service, his jaw drop¬ 
ped in such a fashion that all the outlaws burst 
into a great roar of laughter, so comical was the 
swift change of his face. 

“What is this?” he roared, purple with fury. 
“Mine own silver treasure! I thought it safe in 
my treasure chamber, and it is here in the hands 
of runagate knaves. Ah, Reynaud Greenleaf, 
Reynaud Greenleaf, I doubt me thou art at the 
bottom of this.” 

The great fellow grinned at the Sheriff, and 
said, “Call me Little John, Sir Sheriff. I have 
done with the other name as a man casts off an 
old cloak.” 

Little John! The Sheriff’s eye glittered sav- 


SHERIFF IN THE GREENWOOD 145 


agely to think how he had been cozened* and 
cheated. His servant, Reynaud Greenleaf, had 
been the redoubtable Little John in disguise, and 
he had not known it. He flung himself down on 
the turf and, for a time, could not eat for pure 
sorrow and vexation. But Robin Hood pressed 
him so courteously, and his hunger returned to 
urge him still more strongly, until, in the end, 
the Sheriff made a good supper. 

Now, as a rule, when the Sheriff had made a 
good supper he was in the habit of retiring to a 
very soft feather bed and taking a good night’s 
sleep; but there were no feather beds in the 
greenwood. 

“You shall stay with us, Sheriff,” said Robin 
Hood, “and this night you shall enjoy a wood¬ 
land couch. That is but fair since your oppres¬ 
sion hath driven many a poor fellow to the for¬ 
est, where he must lie on the bare ground, with 
scarce a cloak to cover him.” 

So Robin Hood gave orders to Little John, 
and Little John stripped the Sheriff of his hosen 
and shoon and of his fur-lined cloak and of his 
thick doublet. Then a mantle of Lincoln green 
was given to the Sheriff, and he gladly took it 
and wrapped himself in it. 

“And now good night, Sheriff,” said Robin 
Hood. 


♦Deceived. 



146 ROBIN HOOD 

“Good night is it?” quoth the Sheriff. “But 
where am I to lie? Where is my bed?” 

“Your bed! ” laughed Robin Hood. “It is e’en 
the same couch as my men will occupy. Look 
upon them and do the same.” 

He pointed with his hand, and the Sheriff 
saw that the hardy outlaws were flinging them¬ 
selves upon the earth to sleep, and knew that he 
must do the same. Wrapped in their cloaks of 
Lincoln green, the followers of Robin Hood 
stretched themselves upon the turf, took an out¬ 
standing root for a pillow, and fell at once into 
the deep sleep of tired men who live in the open 
air. 

The Sheriff had to lie down on the same bed, 
but to him it was a bed of misery. He tried to 
sleep, but a sharp-pointed root stuck in his side, 
and he rolled over. Now a big stone caught him 
in the back, and he tried a new place. Here there 
was nothing to rest his head upon, and he moved 
to a place where a raised turf made a sort of pil¬ 
low. But now he could not sleep, for he shivered 
with cold till he shook again. Altogether, he 
passed a most dreadful night, with never a wink 
of sleep, and he was very glad to see the gray 
light of dawn show in the east. He now got up, 
and walked to and fro to warm himself, until 
Robin Hood came to his side. 

“Did you ever sleep on a finer bed in your 


SHERIFF IN THE GREENWOOD 147 


life, Sir Sheriff? ” cried the outlaw. “What think 
you of our order of life under the greenwood 
tree?” 

“This is a harder life,” said the Sheriff, “than 
that of a hermit or friar. I would not live here 
for all the gold in merry England.” 

“For twelve months,” replied Robin, “thou 
shalt dwell with me; I shall teach thee, proud 
Sheriff, to be an outlaw!” 

When the Sheriff heard Robin say that he 
should be a prisoner in the greenwood for twelve 
months, he lost heart entirely, and gave a great 
moan. 

“Robin Hood!” he cried; “I tell thee, that 
sooner than spend another night like the last, I 
would give up my life. Strike my head off, and 
I will forgive thee. But keep me here to live an 
outlaw’s life! No, no, never!” 

Robin Hood laughed. “It is clear you would 
make a poor scholar in my school,” he said; “but 
what then am I to do with you?” 

Upon this the Sheriff begged hard for his 
life and freedom, and promised over and over 
again that in the future Robin Hood should have 
a strong friend in him if only he might go this 
time. 

Robin Hood listened; then lifted his hand 
to check the captive’s flow of entreaties. 

“Hark ye, Sir Sheriff!” cried the outlaw, and 


148 


ROBIN HOOD 


his bright eye was fixed on the Sheriff’s face with 
a piercing glance. “Your life has never been for 
a moment in danger with me. But do not think 
it is because I have respect for you. I have none. 
But I have respect for your office. I will not lay 
violent hands on the representative of the King. 
Were you not set in authority by him I would 
string you up on the highest oak in the green¬ 
wood. And now I must have a promise before 
you go.” And as the old ballad says: 

“Thou shalt swear me an oath,” said Robin, 

“On my bright brand, 

Thou shalt never do me harm, 

By water nor by land; 

And if thou find any of my men 
By night or by day 
Upon thine oath thou shalt swear 
To help them as thou may.” 

The Sheriff was only too glad to make these 
promises, and we shall see how he kept them. 
But Robin took his word, and gave him his horse, 
and led him out of the forest, and set him on his 
way to Nottingham. 

So home went the Sheriff, sore and aching in 
every bone, and brooding bitterly on the thought 
of his empty treasure house. 


Chapter XII 


ROBIN HOOD MEETS GEORGE-A-GREEN 
AND THEN A BEGGAR MAN 

O NE day Robin Hood, Will Scarlet, and 
Little John were out along the high road. 
They had gone beyond the forest, and 
were in the open country, when they heard a 
merry voice singing. They stood still to listen, 
and heard these words: 

“There is neither knight, nor squire, said the pinder, 

Nor baron that is so bold, 

Nor baron that is so bold, 

Dare make a trespass to the town of Wakefield, 

But his pledge goes to the pinfold.” 

The three outlaws went a little farther along 
the way, and then saw a stout, jolly-looking fel¬ 
low seated on the ground, with his back against 
a thorn, carolling like a blackbird. 

“I know him,” said Little John. “’Tis 
George-a-Green, the pinder of Wakefield.” 

A pinder was a man who kept the pinfold, 
or pound, and it was his duty to lock up all stray 
beasts. 

“He seems a merry fellow,” said Robin Hood; 
“but he is not of the sort we seek. We will go 

( 149 ) 


150 ROBIN HOOD 

this way,” and he turned aside from the road. 
But they had not made a dozen steps when the 
pinder ceased his song, and shouted to them to 
halt. 

“Turn back,” said the pinder, “you have for¬ 
saken the King’s highway and made a path 
through the corn.” 

“Here’s a bold fellow,” said Robin Hood, 
quietly, to his followers. “We are three, and he 
is one, yet he commands us not to leave the high¬ 
way.” 

“I believe he is as stout a blade as can be 
found in the North Countree,” quoth Little John. 
“He hath fought many a good wager with sword 
and buckler to my knowledge.” 

“We will try him,” said Robin. “I love a bold 
heart, and will add him to our band if his metal 
rings true.” 

“How will you try him, master?” asked Will 
Scarlet. 

“By our Lady, a sharp trial will I devise,” 
replied Robin Hood. “We will all three rush 
upon him as if in anger at his bold challenge, 
and if he stands against such odds he is a man 
worth having.” 

“Now, now!” roared the pinder at this 
moment. “Do not stand talking there among 
yourselves, but get out of the corn and back to 
the highway.” 


ROBIN MEETS A BEGGAR MAN 151 

“What!” shouted Robin; “dost thou think, 
rude varlet, that we will submit to be ordered 
about by thee? By our Lady, but we will crop 
thy ears from thy head.” And he drew his sword 
and made a rush at the pinder, and Little John 
and Scarlet followed, waving their bright brands 
above their heads, and shouting, “Ay, ay, master! 
Crop the knave’s ears with your hunting knife!” 

The pinder turned, and made one tremen¬ 
dous leap. But it was not in flight; it was to gain 
a broad old thorn tree, and here he set his back 
against the trunk and his foot against a stone. 
Out flashed his sword, and up swung his buckler,- 
and he was ready for his assailants. They 
dashed upon him, and their swords clattered on 
his buckler, for as swiftly as they struck at him, 
he caught the blows with wonderful deftness on 
his shield of steel. Nor did he fail to get in such 
swinging cuts in return that the outlaws came 
very near to being paid back in their own coin. It 
was not long before Robin Hood was satisfied 
that George-a-Green was indeed a stout man of 
his hands. 

“Hold thy hand!” cried Robin Hood, “and 
my men will do the same. Verily, this is one of 
the best pinders I ever tested by the sword!” 

So the contest came to a pause, and the pin¬ 
der was glad to have a chance to fetch a few 
breaths, and lean on his sword. Nevertheless, 


152 ROBIN HOOD 

he kept a wary eye on the three outlaws, and was 
ready at any instant to take to blade and buckler 
again. 

“Come!” said Robin Hood, “you are a man 
after my own heart, pinder. Will you follow 
me?” 

“Whither?” cried the pinder. 

“To the merry greenwood,” replied Robin, 
“where my lusty fellows chase the deer through 
the forest glades and live a life of jolly freedom.” 

“And who are you?” cried the pinder. 

“I am Robin Hood,” said the outlaw. 

The pinder thrust his sword into the scab¬ 
bard, flung aside his buckler, stepped forward, 
and put his hand into Robin’s. 

“I am your man,” he said, at once; “I have 
wished for many a day to meet you, and I love a 
wild free life. Enroll me in your band.” 

“I will, good fellow,” cried Robin Hood, 
gladly. “And these shall be your companions; 
they are Little John and Will Scarlet.” 

“Ay, Little John, I thought it was you,” said 
the pinder, taking the giant’s hand. “I have seen 
you in Wakefield in the old days, before you took 
to the greenwood.” 

Little John and Will Scarlet shook hands 
with their new comrade, and then all four sat 
down under the thorn and ate from a bag of 
food with which the pinder was provided. When 


ROBIN MEETS A BEGGAR MAN 153 


the bread and beef and ale had been despatched, 
Robin Hood said to his three followers, “Stay you 
here, and watch the road. I shall walk a little 
farther, and if I meet with no adventure I shall 
be back anon.” 

“And if we meet with no adventure, master,” 
said Little John, “what then?” 

“Oh, you may follow me,” said Robin Hood. 

So the three men remained chatting under 
the thorn, and Robin went on his way along the 
road. Within two miles, the road he was follow¬ 
ing ran into another, and at the meeting of the 
ways Robin stood for a good while. At length 
he saw a beggar come marching, with long, even 
stride. The beggar was coming toward Robin, 
and the latter stood and watched him. 

“By my faith,” thought the outlaw, “yonder 
fellow goes with sturdy step, and he has a stiff 
heavy crab-stick in his hand. I have heard that 
a strong rogue such as yon will often pick up 
valuable things, and that a dirty bag may often 
have a load worth lightening. I will have a few 
words with him.” 

So Robin placed himself in the path, and 
waited for the beggar. The latter had seen the 
outlaw, but he came on with the same long, even 
stride, neither faster nor slower. The nearer he 
got, the plainer it was to be seen that he might 
prove a very awkward customer to tackle. His 


11 


154 


ROBIN HOOD 


rags flew in the wind, and through the rents his 
brown arms and legs showed thick and muscular. 
His ragged cloak was patched in every color of 
the rainbow, and on his head were three old hats 
jammed down one on top of the other. Round 
his neck hung a great bag, buckled to a stout 
strap of leather. 

“Tarry, my friend,” said Robin; “tarry, and 
speak with me.” 

The beggar made no sign that he had heard 
a word, and pushed straight ahead, without 
slackening his stride. Then Robin sprang 
straight in front of the beggar, and said, “Nay, 
but tarry thou must.” 

“By my troth,” said the beggar, “but I have 
no fancy to obey you. Let me tell you that I have 
far to go to-day, and I have no mind to reach my 
lodging house late, for th£n, look you, the supper 
would be all eaten, and I should look wondrous 
foolish to be too late for the last meal.” 

“All very fine,” said Robin. “You are very 
careful about your own supper, but what of 
mine? Come, lend me some money, and I’ll be¬ 
take myself at once to the nearest tavern.” 

“Money!” cried the beggar; “I’ve no money 
to lend, and, if I had, not a penny would I lend 
to you. You are as young a man as I am, and 
just as active. Be off with you, and get money 
for yourself. If you wait to buy bread with 


ROBIN MEETS A BEGGAR MAN 155 

aught I lend you, you’ll eat nothing this twelve- 
month, that I warrant you.” 

Robin’s temper rose, and he spoke out 
sharply. 

“Now, by my faith, thou art a saucy rogue. 
Down with your wallet, beggar man, and let me 
see what it may contain. Loose the strings, or 
I will tear the bag open with my own hand. If 
thou hast but a small farthing, I will see it ere 
I go.” 

“It takes two to make a bargain,” jeered the 
beggar; “how if I will not obey you?” 

“Why, then!” cried Robin, “if thou darest 
to make any din, I will try if the head of a broad 
arrow may not pierce a beggar’s skin.” 

“Far better let me be,” said the beggar, with 
a grim smile; “I care not a rap for thy bow and 
broad arrow. You will get nothing but ill from 
me, I warn you.” 

Robin was now so angry that he swung up 
his bow, and set a broad arrow on the string. But 
quick as he was, the beggar was quicker. The 
latter fetched so swift and heavy a stroke with 
his great pikestaff that “bow and broad arrow 
in flinders flew about.” 

Seeing that his bow and arrow were useless, 
Robin clapped his hand on his sword hilt. Down 
whistled the pikestaff again, and dropped across 
Robin’s knuckles, so that his hand was numbed, 


156 


ROBIN HOOD 


and he could not draw his blade. Then, with a 
third tremendous blow came the great crab-stick, 
crash! on Robin’s head, and laid him flat on the 
ground. The doughty beggar leaned on his staff, 
and now began to laugh and jeer at poor Robin. 

“Stand up, man!” he chuckled; “’tis early 
yet to go to rest. Get up and count the money 
you have taken from me, and then you may go 
to the tavern and have a merry bout with your 
friends, drinking wine and ale at the beggar’s 
expense. Get up, I say!” 

But Robin Hood had had too shrewd a crack 
on the head to get up in a hurry, and, after crow¬ 
ing over his fallen enemy a little more, the beg¬ 
gar marched on his way. 

Scarce five minutes later Little John, Will 
Scarlet, and George-a-Green, the jolly pinder, 
came along the road. They had met no adven¬ 
ture, and so were seeking their master. When 
they saw him lying at full length in the road they 
began to run as fast as they could, and soon were 
at his side. 

“What’s wrong, master?” cried Little John; 
“what’s wrong? Your bow and arrow and eke* 
your head are broken. How comes this about?” 

“Marry, my good lads,” replied Robin Hood, 
sitting up; “I have met with a beggar who can 
wield his pikestaff in such fashion that there 


♦Even. 








































158 ROBIN HOOD 

be few to match him,” and he told the story of 
the encounter. 

“Gramercy!” cried Little John, “no beggar 
shall so evilly use my master, and escape with a 
whole skin. You, Will Scarlet, stop by our leader 
while George-a-Green and I follow up this scurvy 
rogue and deal with him.” 

So it was arranged, and Will Scarlet began 
to bind up Robin’s head, while Little John and 
the pinder ran after the beggar. 

“Take care of his pikestaff,” called Robin 
after them, but Little John replied: 

“You shall soon see that his staff will stand 
him in poor stead. He shall be bound and led 
back to see if ye will have him slain or hanged 
on a tree.” 

“I know a sure way of having him,” said 
Little John to George-a-Green, as they hurried 
along. “There is a short cut through a wood near 
at hand which is nearer by three miles than fol¬ 
lowing the highway.” So the two men went 
through the wood, and ran up hill and down dale 
in their eagerness to get in front of the man who 
had given their master such a beating. At last 
they came to a little wood in a glen, and through 
this wood the highway ran. Little John stooped 
down and looked in the dust of the road. 

“There is no new footmark of man or beast,” 
said he, “so the beggar has not passed yet.” 


ROBIN MEETS A BEGGAR MAN 159 


“We have him,” said George-a-Green, “and 
we will make his hide pay for what he has done 
this day.” 

At one point of the way the road was narrow, 
and ran between two great oaks. The two com¬ 
panions hid themselves, one behind each oak, and 
waited for their prey. Presently the beggar 
came marching along, his step neither faster nor 
slower than his usual pace, and whistling softly, 
as if he had naught to fear from anyone. But 
as he strode between the oaks Little John and 
George were upon him at a bound. Little John 
mastered his formidable staff, and George-a- 
Green whipped out a dagger and held it at his 
breast. 

“False rascal!” cried George; “give up your 
staff or this dagger will be thy portion.” 

The beggar loosed his staff, and Little John 
took it, and stuck it in the turf by its iron-shod 
point. 

“Grant me my life!” cried the beggar, find¬ 
ing himself helpless in the grip of these two pow¬ 
erful men. “Hold away that ugly knife, or I shall 
die of fear. What harm have I ever done to you 
that you should slay me?” 

“Harm!” cried Little John; “harm enough, 
thou ragged rogue! Thou hast come near to slay¬ 
ing the gentlest man and best master that ever 
was born. So thou shalt be led back, fast bound, 


160 


ROBIN HOOD 


to see if he will have thee slain with a dagger or 
hanged to a tree.” 

But the beggar continued to plead for his 
life. “Brave gentlemen,” he said, “what good 
will it do to you to take a poor beggar’s life? Let 
me go, and I will give you the hundred pounds 
and some odd silver which is hidden at the bot¬ 
tom of my bag. It is the savings of many years, 
but ’tis better for a man to part with his money 
than his life.” 

“Hearken to the rogue!” cried George-a- 
Green. “He hath a hundred pound and more in 
his beggar’s bag. Well, never judge a man by 
his looks, say I.” 

“ ’Tis no surprise to me,” said Little John, 
“for I have often known a ragged cloak cover 
riches in these unsafe days. But come, man, 
turn out thy store, and let us see this money.” 

“Gladly will I do that!” cried the beggar, and 
unstrapped his great leathern wallet, and let it 
down on the ground with care as though it was 
very heavy. Now, there was a strong wind blow¬ 
ing through the glen, a breeze which flapped the 
beggar’s rags about him, and he turned his back 
to it, as if to avoid the keen blast. Little John 
and George-a-Green were facing their prisoner, 
eager to see what was in the bag, and watching 
his every movement as he unfastened the straps 
from the buckles. 


ROBIN MEETS A BEGGAR MAN 161 


The beggar plunged both hands into the 
great wallet and raised them. But they were not 
filled with money, but meal, which he dashed 
right into the faces of the waiting outlaws. In 
an instant Little John and George were blind and 
gasping. The fine meal filled their eyes, noses, 
and mouths, till they could neither see nor 
breathe. The strong wind helped the beggar, 
and raised a blinding whirl of meal, in which all 
sight of the cunning fellow was lost. 

Handful upon handful of the meal the beg¬ 
gar hurled upon them, and finished by shaking 
his great bag in their faces. The two outlaws 
tried to shout in their rage, but the meal choked 
them, and they could only splutter and gasp. 
They drove their knuckles into their eyes to clear 
the fine particles away, but that only made mat¬ 
ters worse, for the more they rubbed the blinder 
they became. 

Then the beggar made one jump, and seized 
his great pikestaff which stood where Little 
John had placed it. 

“How now, my masters?” he shouted. “It 
seems I have done ye wrong in mealing your 
clothes. The least I can do is to dust your jackets 
for you,” and with that he began to lay on them 
fast and heavy with his big stick. Whack! 
thump! bang! down came the great stick across 
the shoulders of the outlaws, and the meal rose 


162 


ROBIN HOOD 


again in clouds under the swinging blows. Lit¬ 
tle John and George groped hither and thither, 
trying to seize the beggar, but he dodged them 
easily, and hit them again and again, where and 
how he liked, his staff falling on their heads and 
backs as a flail falls on a sheaf. 

At last there was nothing for it but flight, 
and the outlaws hurried away down the glen, 
blinded and smarting. 

“Why this hurry?” cried the beggar, follow¬ 
ing them up, as they stumbled over the roots and 
fallen branches. “Tarry a little; you are not 
paid in full yet; do not fear that I shall prove a 
niggard.” 

But the outlaws had had enough of the coin 
with which the beggar paid his debts, and fled 
faster still. 

“Well, if you must go!” cried the cunning 
rogue, “here’s one for luck!” and he gave each of 
the outlaws a last tremendous buffet, and turned 
back, and went his way merrily. 

When Little John and George-a-Green found 
that they were really free of this terrible beggar, 
they stopped at a spring and washed the meal 
from their eyes. But when at last they could see, 
there was no sign of their assailant. He had 
taken to the woods and vanished completely. So 
there was nothing for them to do but to return 
to their master and Will Scarlet. 


ROBIN MEETS A BEGGAR MAN 163 


“Why,” said Robin Hood, “how is this? Ye 
went after a beggar, but I think ye have been at 
the mill, for your clothes are full of meal.” 

Little John grinned, for though he had come 
off with the worst end of the stick, he could see 
the fun of the thing. 

“We seized the beggar, sure enough, master,” 
said he, “and he offered to ransom himself from 
his great bag,” and he went on to tell the story 
of the meal and the big pikestaff. 

Robin Hood and Will Scarlet could not help 
laughing at this droll story, and Will Scarlet 
laughed loudest of all, for he had never felt the 
beggar’s stick. 

“Well, the beggar is the best man this time,” 
said Robin, who could respect a bold foeman. 
“We must go back to the forest with naught but 
bruises to show for our gains this day, and, by 
our Lady, I think he hath banged you two worse 
than he banged me.” 

“I shall be sore for a week,” grumbled Little 
John. 

“And I am black and blue all over,” said 
George-a-Green. 

“I think we had better say naught about 
this matter,” said Robin Hood, “or we shall be 
shamed for evermore, thus to be overcome by a 
sly beggar.” 

Little John and George were quite willing to 


164 


ROBJN HOOD 


say nothing, but it is very likely that Will Scarlet 
thought the joke too good not to be told, for the 
tale got abroad. And a ballad was made about 
it, and sung for many a day of Robin Hood and 
his men and the beggar with a meal pack. 


Chapter XIII 


FRIAR TUCK AND THE BISHOP OF 
HEREFORD 

A FEW days after his meeting with the 
beggar, Robin Hood was seated, one 
sunny morning, on a log outside the cave 
where he and his band lived. Robin was mending 
a bow, and, looking up from his work, he saw 
Lobb the cobbler coming up to him. Lobb was 
now quite well again, and had come from the 
town with tidings. 

“News, master, news!” cried the cobbler. 
“News of whom, good Lobb?” asked Robin. 
“Of the Bishop of Hereford,” replied Lobb. 
Robin Hood’s brow darkened, for the Bishop 
had been a bitter enemy of his since the wedding 
of Alan-a-Dale, and, more than that, Robin 
hated the Bishop because the latter was greedy 
and cruel. 

“Say on, Lobb!” cried the outlaw. 

“The Bishop is now in Nottingham town,” 
said Lobb, “and to-morrow he rides through 
Barnesdale Forest. He has been collecting the 
rent of Church lands, and his wallets will be 

( 165 ) 


166 


ROBIN HOOD 


stuffed with gold and silver, for he hath forced 
everyone to pay in full, though times be hard, 
and money be scarce. He hath taken the last 
penny of the widow and orphan, sooner than bate 
one coin of the heavy and unjust dues laid upon 
his tenants.” 

“Ah!” said Robin, quietly; “I think it is time 
this proud prelate was taught a lesson. I will ask 
him to dinner.” 

Lobb grinned, for he knew what that meant. 
The rich oppressor who dined with Robin Hood 
had to pay stiffly for his meal. 

The next day Robin and a strong band of his 
men betook themselves to that part of the forest 
through which the Bishop must pass. 

“Come, kill me a good fat deer,” quoth bold 
Robin Hood, “for the Bishop of Hereford is to 
dine with me to-day'and he shall pay well for his 
cheer.” 

The deer was killed and laid on an open 
grassy space beside the way, and areund it gath¬ 
ered Robin Hood and six of his men; the rest of 
the band were posted in hiding. 

Now, Robin and the men who stayed with 
him were dressed like poor shepherds. They had 
laid aside their garb of Lincoln green, their 
bows, and swords, and had clothed themselves in 
old torn cloaks of gray duffle* with long sheep- 

♦Woolen. 


FRIAR TUCK AND THE BISHOP 167 


crooks in their hands. Thus they looked as inno¬ 
cent as possible, and when the Bishop of Here¬ 
ford came riding along the road, with a strong 
train of attendants, he thought them some 
shepherds making holiday: for they had made 
a fire on the green, and were dancing round it. 

But when the Bishop came nearer, and saw 
that they had a fine fat deer to roast at their fire, 
he felt very angry. In his opinion no one save a 
noble or a wealthy Churchman had a right to eat 
rich venison, and he felt sure he had discovered 
a nest of poaching rogues. 

“What is the matter? ” said the Bishop. “For 
whom are you making all this ado? Why do you 
kill the King’s venison for such a small com¬ 
pany?” 

“We are shepherds,” replied Robin Hood, 
“and we keep sheep all the year. We feel dis¬ 
posed to be merry to-day so we have killed a fat 
deer for our feast.” 

When the Bishop heard this cool answer he 
was ready to burst with rage. He was accus¬ 
tomed to see poor shepherds kneel before him in 
most humble fashion, and here was one giving 
him a careless and insolent reply. 

“You thieving rogues!” he cried, “as sure as 
I am Bishop of Hereford, you shall hang for this. 
The King shall know of your doings, and he will 
send you at once to the gallows.” 


168 


ROBIN HOOD 


“Oh pardon, oh pardon,” said Robin Hood, “a 
Bishop should show mercy. It would be a stain 
on your lordship’s cloth if you were to take so 
many lives away for the killing of a single deer.” 

“No pardon for you this day,” said the 
Bishop; “you must come with me, and go before 
the King.” 

He made a sign to the train of armed attend¬ 
ants who followed him, and several of them came 
forward to seize the shepherds. But Robin 
sprang away, and set his back against a tree, and 
drew his horn from beneath his cloak of gray 
duffle. He set the horn to his lips, and blew such 
a piercing blast that, for a moment, the Bishop 
and his men were silent in wonder. And at the 
next moment they were silent in terror; for every 
bush, every tree, every thicket, gave up its man. 
Seventy bold bowmen sprang into sight, each 
with shaft on string, and waiting but the word 
of their master to loose their arrows. 

The Bishop’s men saw at once that they had 
fallen into an ambush, and fled for their lives. 
The Bishop would have fled with them, but he 
pulled his palfrey round so hastily that it stum¬ 
bled and fell on its nose, pitching the Bishop 
clean out of the saddle. Little John picked up 
the Churchman, who was more frightened than 
hurt, and now found that he was in the power 
of the men whom he had intended to see hanged. 


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FRIAR TUCK AND THE BISHOP 169 


“This is the Bishop of Hereford,” laughed 
Robin to Little John, “and no pardon shall we 
have from him. Luckily, we do not need it now.” 

“Cut off his head, master!” growled Little 
John. 

Upon hearing this the Bishop was dread¬ 
fully frightened, and his fat face went as white 
as paper. It was now his turn to beg for mercy. 

“Pardon! Pardon!” cried the Bishop. “If I 
had known that it was you I’d have gone another 
way.” 

“I dare say you would,” replied Robin; “but 
no pardon do I owe you. You must come with me 
and go to the forest.” 

So, willy-nilly, the Bishop had to go with 
Robin Hood, and they went by glade and forest 
path until they reached a secret nook among the 
woods, where the outlaws had made a camp. 

A great fire was already burning there, and 
two or three men were busy cooking, while Friar 
Tuck overlooked them, and gave directions. 

When the Bishop saw Friar Tuck he thought 
that he would surely find a friend in a fellow 
Churchman, and he spoke to him, and called him 
brother. But Tuck took no notice—he only spoke 
in a louder voice to the cooks, and rated one of 
them who was allowing a panful of venison 
collops to burn, so the Bishop had to turn away. 

Before long the meal was ready, and so deli- 


12 


170 


ROBIN HOOD 


cious did the venison smell that the Bishop’s 
mouth watered. He had made a long ride that 
morning, and the forest air was keen. 

Friar Tuck said grace, and they all fell to, 
and the Bishop cleared his dish as promptly as 
any hungry outlaw of the company. He had a 
tankard at his elbow, and first it was filled with 
brown ale, and then with red wine, and the 
Bishop ate and drank as if he would never stop. 
At last he could eat and drink no more, and the 
day was waning. 

“I must be going,” said the Bishop. “Call in 
a reckoning! What have I to pay for this good 
dinner?” 

“Ah, yes,” said Robin; “your lordship speaks 
well and truly. After a guest has eaten and 
drunken he does well to call for the bill. But 
who shall count the reckoning, my lord Bishop?” 

The Bishop looked round and thought for a 
moment. 

“I will choose this worthy friar to do so,” 
said the fat Bishop, pursing his mouth in a very 
important manner. “I am certain that a good 
son of the Church will do right by me and by you, 
Robin Hood.” 

The Bishop thought to save his purse by 
these flattering allusions to Friar Tuck, but he 
did not know the jovial priest. Tuck’s face was 
hidden for the moment behind a great leather 


FRIAR TUCK AND THE BISHOP 171 


black jack, from which he was drinking ale, and 
when it came to view his little merry eyes were 
twinkling. 

“Is it even so?” said the friar, in his deepest 
voice. “Am I then to say what payment the 
Bishop shall make for this good cheer?” 

“Yes, good Tuck,” said Robin, “the Bishop 
has chosen well. I will abide by your decision.” 

“Then,” said the friar, “his lordship shall 
empty his purse-” 

“That will I gladly do!” cried the Bishop, 
and whipped out his purse from the bag which 
hung at his girdle. “Here it is. Eleven silver 
pennies are in it, and I will give them all-■” 

“Let me finish!” cried Tuck, interrupting the 
Bishop in turn. “His lordship shall empty his 
purse, and also that large wallet of leather fast¬ 
ened at the saddlebow of his palfrey.” 

“No, no!” screamed the Bishop; “let that be. 
Touch not that, I pray you. It is not money that 
profane hands should meddle with. It belongs 
to the Church, and consists of the poor dues 
owing to her by tenants of her lands.” 

“Poor dues!” cried Robin Hood. “Say poor 
tenants, rather, my lord Bishop, for much of this 
money hath been wrung from the needy, as I am 
well advised. Little John, let us see what wealth 
the Bishop carries.” 

Up rose the giant, and seized the Bishop’s 



172 


ROBIN HOOD 


own cloak, and spread it on the turf. Then away 
he went and fetched the big leathern wallet, so 
carefully and tightly strapped at the Bishop’s 
saddlebow. 

All eyes were fixed on the heavy bag, and a 
general murmur arose when Little John opened 
the mouth of it and poured a great stream of 
pieces of gold on to the cloak. 

“Here’s money enough, master!” said Little 
John, “and a comely sight is it to see.” 

“How much is there?” asked Robin. 

“Three hundred pounds,” replied Little 
John. 

“We will take it,” said Robin Hood. “First 
we will give back to the poorest tenants the 
money they have paid; the rest we will keep in 
memory of the pleasant dinner at which my Lord 
of Hereford has joined us.” 

The Bishop’s face was black with rage at this 
free disposal of the money he loved so much, and 
he broke into a storm of angry words, but Robin 
only laughed. 

“A man ought to be in a better temper than 
that, after a good dinner,” said the chief outlaw. 
“This is a time for music and dance, not for evil 
words and bitter speeches. Strike up a merry 
tune, Alan-a-Dale, and my Lord of Hereford 
shall dance to it.” 

“Ay, that he shall!” roared Little John, as 


FRIAR TUCK AND THE BISHOP 173 

Robin Hood seized the fat Bishop by the hand; 
“I will help you, and dance he shall.” 

So, to the great delight of the outlaws, Robin 
Hood and Little John seized the Bishop of Here¬ 
ford and made him dance to the sweet music of 
Alan-a-Dale’s harp. The Bishop danced with a 
very ill grace, and looked very sour as he hopped 
up and down. But he was too frightened to dis¬ 
obey. He had lost his money, but he did not want 
to lose his life. So he danced until he was very 
tired, when Robin Hood bade him get on his 
palfrey and be off. The Bishop did not need to 
be told twice. He scrambled into the saddle, and 
was off in a moment, making for Nottingham as 
hard as he could go. 


Chapter XIV 


ROBIN HOOD MEETS WITH A TINKER BY 
THE WAY 

W HEN the poor old Bishop got back to 
Nottingham, without a penny of his 
dearly loved money, he took counsel 
with the Sheriff, whose treasure chamber was 
empty. Both were filled with the most furious 
rage against Robin Hood, and issued a proclama¬ 
tion that a warrant would be given, in the name 
of the King, to any man who would go against 
the famous outlaw to seize him, and that a 
reward of one hundred pounds would be paid for 
the capture of Robin Hood. 

Now, when this proclamation was made at 
the market cross the crowd of townsmen who 
heard it looked at each other and smiled. They 
knew how easy it was to offer a hundred pounds 
for Robin Hood, and how hard it would be to earn 
the money, and not one of them came forward to 
offer to take up the quest. But, on the outskirts 
of the crowd stood one who was not a townsman. 
This was a short, thick, sturdy fellow, with a very 
dirty face and a turned-up nose. On his back was 

( 174 ) 


ROBIN HOOD MEETS A TINKER 175 

a leathern bag of tools hanging from the handle 
of a large hammer which he carried on his shoul¬ 
der, and held with his left hand. In his right 
hand was a long, stout, crab-tree staff, upon 
which he leaned as he listened with the deepest 
interest to the proclamation. He was a wander¬ 
ing tinker, and his name was John Sly. 

“A hundred pounds,” thought Sly to himself, 
“why, ’tis a noble sum of money. And all for seiz¬ 
ing some outlaw rogue in the forest near at hand. 
I might mend pots and pans all my life and never 
see so much money. I’ faith, I’ll have a try at 
that.” 

He tapped a man near by on the shoulder. “Is 
it difficult, friend, to come at the place this Robin 
Hood haunts!” asked Sly. 

“Nothing easier,” said the townsman, with a 
grin; “but when you’re there, then ’tis likely your 
troubles will begin.” 

Sly the tinker nodded loftily, for the day was 
hot and his last silver penny had gone in ale to 
quench his thirst. “I’ll warrant you he will not 
slip through my fingers so easily,” said the 
tinker, and went forthwith to obtain the warrant 
which should give him authority to arrest the 
notorious outlaw, Robin Hood. 

Not only did he obtain the warrant, but full 
information as to the place where he might meet 
the person named in it, and he set out of town 


176 


ROBIN HOOD 


by break of day next morning to make his for¬ 
tune by seizing Robin Hood. 

‘Til show these North-Countree thick-heads 
a trick or two,” said Sly the tinker, twirling his 
great quarterstaff round his head; “they have 
no idea of the cunning and wit of South-Countree 
people. I’m a Banbury man, and we don’t breed 
dullards in Oxfordshire.” 

By the time he had been walking for a couple 
of hours the day was hot, and he sat down under 
a great oak at a turning of the way to mop his 
forehead, and to glance over the warrant, the 
possession of which made him very proud. 

He had returned the paper to his wallet, and 
was about to go on his road, when he saw a tall 
man, in a suit of scarlet cloth, a sword at his side, 
walking gently towards him. 

“Good,” said Sly to himself, “here comes a 
fellow who looks like a respectable yeoman. I’ll 
warrant he can put me on the right track for 
finding the haunt of this rogue of an outlaw.” 

So Sly went at once towards the yeoman in 
the scarlet suit. The latter had been walking 
with his eyes on the ground, and when he looked 
up and saw the tinker, with his bag of tools over 
his shoulder, he greeted the newcomer with a 
pleasant smile, and a courteous wave of the hand. 

“The seal of the day to you,” said the tinker, 
“and I’ll go bail you’re a native of these parts.” 


ROBIN HOOD MEETS A TINKER 177 


“True; I live near at hand,” said the polite 
stranger. “And where do you live?” 

“I am a tinker, my name is Sly, and I come 
from Banbury,” replied the man of pots and 
pans. “And what is the news with you?” 

“Why I fear me it will not be pleasant for a 
man of your trade,” said the stranger, laughing 
softly. 

“It is that two tinkers were set yesterday in 
the stocks for drinking too freely of ale and 
beer.” 

“Marry, come up!” growled Sly, who was 
rather a short-tempered fellow, “practice none of 
your jokes upon me, friend, or you may have rea¬ 
son to know that I carry a heavy stick.” 

“You asked for the news,” returned the 
stranger, mildly, “and I obliged you. But, come, 
you are a man who goes from town to town, and 
village to village. You have the news of a half 
a shire at your finger ends. What have you to 
tell?” 

“My news!” cried Sly, “is that there is a hun¬ 
dred pounds of good money to be had for the 
picking up.” 

“Say you so?” replied the stranger. “How 
may that be?” 

“Why, in these woods there is a bold outlaw 
they call Robin Hood, and I have a warrant to 
seize him. And as sure as I can get my hands on 


178 


ROBIN HOOD 


him and drag him to Nottingham, there is a hun¬ 
dred pounds reward to clink in my pocket. Now, 
if you’ll help me in this matter, I’ll give you a 
good share of the reward.” 

The stranger scratched his forehead, and 
seemed to be in deep thought for a time. 

“ ’Tis a fine sum of money,” said he, at last, 
“and I believe I could show you where he is to be 
found.” 

“Good, good!” chuckled Sly the tinker, “let us 
go together, for I have a warrant from the King 
to take this outlaw wherever I find him. Point 
him out to me and I’ll make a rich man of you.” 

“Let me see the warrant,” said the friendly 
stranger; “if it is all right, I will do the best I 
can to bring about a meeting between you and 
him.” 

But Sly only grinned, and winked the other 
eye. “No, no! ” he said, “I’ll not show my warrant 
to anyone. I’ll trust no one with it. Help me to 
find him, and you shall share the reward. Refuse 
to help me, and ’tis all one: I’ll find him myself.” 

“I see you are a cautious fellow,” said the 
stranger; “well, I do not blame you for it. We 
meet with strange companions on the road in 
these days. But the reward is great, and I tell 
you frankly that I should like to share in it. Sup¬ 
pose we go together as far as the ‘Royal Hart,’ 
and talk it over with a can of cool ale.” 


ROBIN HOOD MEETS A TINKER 179 


“With all my heart!” cried the tinker, lick¬ 
ing his lips at the idea of a tankard of ale, and 
hastening to follow the stranger along the way. 

They went a mile or more, and came to an 
inn, and met the landlord at the door. The land¬ 
lord was very respectful to the stranger, and 
bustled off at once to fetch a great jug of ale and 
a flagon of Canary wine. The tinker’s little eyes 
glittered again at sight of such provision, and he 
tossed off cup after cup with heartiest good will 
and many expressions of delight at such splen¬ 
did entertainment. He did most of the drinking, 
for the stranger only sipped at his cup, and ex¬ 
plained that he was deep in thought, planning 
the best and surest way in which to seize Robin 
Hood. 

By the time the jug and flagon had been 
emptied the tinker’s head began to nod, and soon 
he was snoring peacefully in a corner of the 
settle. 

The stranger smiled, and opened Sly’s wal¬ 
let. From this he took out the warrant, and read 
it with a broader smile still upon his face. When 
he had read the paper he slipped it into his 
pocket. Then he rose, and marched softly from 
the place. 

Ten minutes later the landlord came into the 
room. The host started when he saw that the 
man in scarlet had gone, leaving the dirty and 





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ROBIN HOOD MEETS A TINKER 181 

rather ragged tinker all alone and began to feel 
uneasy about his bill. He stepped across to the 
settle and seized Sly by the collar. 

“Wake up!” he said, and shook the sleeping 
tinker. 

“No more, friend, no more,” said the half- 
aroused tinker. “I have drunken well already at 
your expense.” 

“I’ll take care it isn’t at my expense!” cried 
the landlord. “Wake up, you drowsy rogue, and 
settle the reckoning.” 

“Settled the reckoning, have you?” said Sly, 
who still thought he was talking to the stranger 
in scarlet. “Why, that’s noble of you, but, trust 
me, I shall not forget it when we come to sharing 
up the reward.” 

“I want no reward!” shouted the landlord; 
“give me my just dues, and I am content,” and 
with this he gave the tinker such a shake that 
Sly was fully awakened. 

“Why? What? How? Where?” said the 
tinker, in confused fashion. “Where is my com¬ 
rade, the bold yeoman who was to lead me to my 
journey’s end, who was to pay the shot of this 
day’s reckoning?” 

Then the tinker’s eye fell upon his unstrap¬ 
ped wallet. He caught it up and looked in. Now 
he began to bellow like a bull with a ring in his 
nose. 


182 ROBIN HOOD 

“Help! help!” he roared. “I am ruined! I 
am undone! I have been robbed, plundered, and 
betrayed! Where is my warrant, my warrant 
from the King? It is lost and stolen.” 

“Warrant!” cried the landlord; “who would 
trust such a fellow as thou art with a warrant? 
And against whom was it drawn?” 

“Marry, good host, but I had the warrant 
from the Sheriff of Nottingham himself, and it 
was a warrant from the King ‘which might have 
done me good—that is to take a bold outlaw, 
some call him Robin Hood.’ ” 

“Robin Hood!” cried the landlord; “why this 
affair becomes stranger and stranger. That was 
Robin Hood with whom you came here and were 
drinking. ’Twas Robin in a dress of scarlet, in¬ 
stead of green, such as he commonly wears.” 

When the tinker heard this he opened his 
mouth and eyes till he could open them no wider, 
and his uproar was stopped dead in pure surprise 
and astonishment. At last, he gasped, “That 
Robin Hood! Men told me he was a fierce-look- 
ing fellow, with a savage face, a true outlaw. 
Why that man looked like a worthy yeoman.” 

“Robin carries many faces under one hood,” 
replied the landlord; “but it was he, as sure as I 
stand here, and as sure as you have drunk a great 
jug of my best ale and a flagon of my best 
Canary.” 


ROBIN HOOD MEETS A TINKER 183 

“But he was going to pay the shot!” cried 
Sly. “He asked me to come hither to drink with 
him.” 

“I know naught about that,” said the land¬ 
lord, in a dry tone. “I only know that my drink 
has gone and you must meet the reckoning.” 

“How much?” asked the tinker, sadly. 

“Ten shillings,” was the reply. 

“Ten shillings!” cried the tinker. “I have 
not ten farthings in the world.” 

“Then you must hand over your hammer and 
your bag of tools,” said the landlord. 

“What!” cried Sly, “my hammer and tools! 
How am I to earn my living?” 

“You should have thought of that before 
running into debt,” returned the other. 

The tinker raved and stormed and shouted. 
He raged against the quiet stranger in scarlet; 
he denounced the landlord; he swore he would 
have the law of them all. 

“Very good,” said the landlord, “but the law 
will be on my side, I think. Here you sit drinking 
with an outlaw, and when he slips oif you try to 
cheat me of the reckoning. I fancy the law will 
have something to say to you about that.” 

The tinker saw that the landlord spoke 
truth, and that he must e’en make the best of a 
very bad bargain. So he gave up his hammer 
and tools, took up his great crab-stick, and left 


184 ROBIN HOOD 

the “Royal Hart” in as sad case as ever a tinker 
found himself. 

“If only I could come across that rogue in 
scarlet!” he said to himself, and swung his great 
stick vengefully about his head; “would I not 
thrash his jacket for him, a murrain* on the 
knave.” 

When the tinker came out of the inn he 
dashed away along the road, and by sheer good 
luck took the very track which Robin was follow¬ 
ing. For, before Sly had gone a mile he caught 
a bright flash of color at a bend of the path, and 
next saw the stranger in scarlet standing to 
watch a herd of deer. Up rushed Sly as fast as 
he could go, shouting threats and calling on the 
man in scarlet to turn and face him. 

Robin Hood turned at once, and smiled when 
he saw the angry tinker. 

“What knave is this,” quoth he, “that draws 
to me so near?” 

“No knave, no knave!” roared Sly; “the 
boot’s on the other leg this time. It seems I’ve 
found Robin Hood after all, and now I’ll show 
him with my crab-tree staff who has done wrong 
and is to be paid for it.” 

And saying that, he ran in with wonderful 
nimbleness, and fetched Robin a stunning crack 
with the great stick. So quick was the tinker 


♦Plague. 



ROBIN HOOD MEETS A TINKER 185 


that down came the staff, whack! before Robin 
could draw his sword. 

Robin reeled under the shrewd stroke, but 
managed to draw his blade, and face his foe. For 
two or three moments he was compelled to dodge 
hither and thither to escape the sweeping blows; 
then in he dashed, for his blood was up, and the 
tinker was forced to act on the defensive. But 
Sly proved as good a man in defense as in attack. 
Time and again he caught Robin’s blade on his 
hard crab-stick, and metal rang on wood till the 
forest echoed again. Then with a swift twirl of 
his huge cudgel Sly followed up a parry with a 
stroke at Robin’s sword arm, and caught him so 
smart a rap on the elbow that the arm became 
numbed from finger tip to shoulder, and the 
outlaw could hold his sword no longer. 

“Let us cry halt for a moment, tinker,” said 
Robin; “I would e’en beg a boon of thee.” 

“A boon, indeed!” cried the tinker. “Before 
I grant that, I’ll hang you on this tree. Marry, 
come up, but it seems I’ve taken the great Robin 
Hood, and the reward is mine.” 

And, upon thought of this, Sly was so merry 
that he cut a caper, and then looked about to see 
which road ran towards Nottingham. When 
Robin saw that the tinker’s head was turned for 
a moment, he seized his horn, and blew the forest 
call. 


IS 


186 ROBIN HOOD 

“Nay, nay!” roared the tinker, “here is no 
time to be blowing calls and winding horns. You 
must come along with me, or I must e’en give 
you a few gentle love taps with this little per¬ 
suader of mine,’’and he made his mighty crab- 
tree whistle through the air. 

But at that instant up bounded Little John 
and Will Scarlet, running to the aid of their 
master. 

The tinker stared in surprise at Little John, 
for he had never seen such a giant of a man 
before. 

“By my faith!” cried Sly; “but here comes 
the stoutest knave I ever set eyes on. But if ye 
think that I will fly, ye know not Jack Sly,” and 
he set his back against an oak, and placed him¬ 
self in guard, his quarterstaff held in readiness 
either to strike or to parry. Robin Hood sat down 
on a bank, for he was too stiff to stand, so sharply 
had the tinker’s staff played tattoo on him. 

“What is wrong, master?” cried Little John; 
“and why do you sit so wearily beside the high¬ 
way?” 

“By our Lady,” said Robin Hood, “here is a 
tinker that stands by that hath paid well my 
hide.” 

“Say you so, master!” cried Little John 
“then I would fain try a turn with him. We’ll 
see if he can do as much for me.” 


ROBIN HOOD MEETS A TINKER 187 


The huge outlaw sprang forward, and swung 
up his heavy staff, and the tinker faced him as 
boldly as possible. But before the sticks clashed 
together Robin Hood called upon his lieutenant 
to hold. 

“I do not blame the man,” said the leader. 
“He had good reason to pay me a few knocks. I 
had marred his fortune by taking the warrant 
for my arrest, by which he set much store. But 
if I have spoiled his fortune one way, I will make 
it in another. Tinker, how dost thou fare on the 
road?” 

“So, so, master!” replied Sly; “sometimes a 
few jobs and a supper, sometimes a day’s march 
without a penny taken. Then, if a pot of ale 
should come my way, I am like to find myself 
fast in the stocks.” 

“Not a very gay life,” laughed Robin. 

“A dog’s life, master,” replied the tinker; “a 
dog’s life.” 

“Change it then for ours, in the merry green¬ 
wood!” cried the outlaw. “By day we hunt the 
deer; at night we feast high on venison around 
our blazing fire, and wash down the feast with 
nut-brown ale. Come, join us!” 

“Ay, master, that I will!” cried the tinker. 
“Such a life will fit me, like hand and glove. I 
am with you to live or to die,” and Robin and he 
clasped hands upon the bargain. 


188 


ROBIN HOOD 


So John Sly, the tinker, turned from hunting 
Robin Hood to become Robin’s sworn man, and 
he made as stanch a servant as he had been 
stout as an enemy. And the old ballad which 
tells us how Robin won this recruit ends with 
Robin Hood’s commendation of his new hench¬ 
man. 


“In manhood he is a mettled man, 

And a mettle (metal) man by trade. 
Never thought I that any man 
Should have made me so afraid. 

And if he will be one of us, 

We will all take one fare, 

And whatsoever we do get, 

He shall have his full share. 

So the tinker was content 
With them to go along, 

And with them a part to take, 

And so I end my song.” 


Chapter XV 


THE BISHOP TRIES HIS OWN HAND 

F OR some time the Bishop of Hereford stayed 
with the Sheriff of Nottingham, and every 
morning they asked eagerly if there was yet 
any news of the capture of Robin Hood. The 
Bishop was in hopes that he could get back his 
three hundred pounds if the famous outlaw 
should be seized, and the Sheriff’s thoughts were 
filled night and day with the vision of his empty 
treasure house. 

But day after day passed, and those who had 
gone to search for the outlaws came back to the 
town and said there was no sign of them in the 
forest. It was true that John Sly, the tinker, did 
not come back, but no one noticed that he did 
not turn up again, and no one cared. 

Then one day there marched into the town 
a strong company of men-at-arms on their way 
from the north to London. The captain who com¬ 
manded this company was a foreign mercenary, 
who was at any time ready to sell the services of 
his men to the highest bidder. The Bishop saw 
the troops march into the town, and an idea came 

( 189 ) 


190 ROBIN HOOD 

into his mind: these were the very fellows to aid 
him in catching Robin Hood; he would employ 
them for a few days, pay them out of the store of 
wealth to be captured from the outlaws, and 
avenge himself on the outlaw leader. 

It was quite easy to make a bargain with the 
captain of the band, and so confident was the 
Bishop that these trained troops would make 
short work of the bowmen of the forest that he 
rode with them, to aid them in finding the retreat 
of the outlaws. 

As luck would have it, Robin Hood himself 
was out alone along the highway at the very 
moment that the Bishop and his company rode 
up to the forest. At a sharp turn of the way 
Robin came full upon two of the Bishop’s serv¬ 
ants who were riding a little ahead as scouts. 
Both of these men had been with the Bishop when 
he was seized, and they knew Robin Hood again 
at once. 

“Here he is!” they shouted. “Here’s Robin 
Hood, himself!” 

At a glance Robin knew that he was in the 
midst of his enemies, and there was the Bishop 
riding hastily upon hearing the shout. 

“What shall I do?” thought Robin Hood. “If 
the Bishop takes me he’ll show me no mercy and 
I shall be hanged.” 

But he was in no mind to give up and be eas- 


THE BISHOP TRIES 


191 


ily taken. He turned and flew at his utmost speed 
for a wood near by. Then what a running and 
racing there was! The Bishop and his men rode 
hard after the fugitive, but he got among the 
trees and was lost to sight for the moment. 

“Ride round the wood!” roared the Bishop. 
“It is not a very great wood. We can surround it 
on every side, and then there will be no chance 
for the rogue to slip through our hands.” 

This was done, and soon a circle was drawn 
around the wood, and Robin was inside the circle. 
Then the company began to search the wood, but 
they went to work slowly and warily, for they 
knew not how many of Robin’s men might be at 
hand, and they feared an ambush. 

As it happened, there was no need for fear. 
Not a single follower was within hail, and Robin 
Hood had nothing to depend on save his own wit 
and courage. The bold outlaw knew that he was 
in the greatest danger of his life, and he ran to 
the very heart of the wood, where he hoped to 
find a refuge. Here stood a tiny cottage of two 
rooms, where lived a poor old widow, who earned 
a living at her spinning wheel. Robin had often 
helped the old woman, and he felt sure she would 
now help him in turn. And, besides that, her 
three sons were members of Robin’s band. 

He ran into the cottage, and the old woman 
looked up from her spinning wheel. 


192 


ROBIN HOOD 


“I am Robin Hood!” cried the outlaw; “and 
the Bishop and his men are at my heels. If they 
take me I am a dead man, for the Bishop has 
sworn he will hang me on the highest oak in the 
forest.” 

“Never fear, Robin Hood!” cried the quick¬ 
witted old woman; “that shall never be. I’ll 
cheat the Bishop and his company yet. What, 
shall you be taken, who have so often helped me 
in my need! Marry, never, say I. Come, go into 
the inner room and put on the old skirt and 
mantle of mine which you will find there, and 
leave me your suit of Lincoln green.” 

“A noble plan!” cried Robin Hood; “we’ll see 
if the Bishop’s eyes are sharp enough to find 
Robin Hood in an old woman’s dress.” 

In a trice Robin Hood was clothed like a poor 
old woman, and his disguise was finished by a 
big old hat, with a broken brim, which fell over 
his face. He left the cottage, hobbling along, 
and leaning on a stick, while he carried spindle 
and twine, like an old cottage woman who in¬ 
tends to work while she rests on her way. 

In a short time Robin heard the trampling 
of hoofs, and now he bent lower still, and hobbled 
more lamely than ever. Then he heard a voice, 
and knew it. 

“Who is this?” cried some one, in pompous 
tones, and Robin knew that the Bishop was be- 


THE BISHOP TRIES 193 

fore him. “Seize that old woman and bring her 
to me.” 

One of the Bishop’s men caught hold of the 
trembling old crone, and led her to the spot 
where the Bishop sat on his dapple grey palfrey. 

“Whence dost thou come, old woman?” de¬ 
manded the Churchman. 

“From my cottage in the wood, noble lord,” 
croaked the old woman, from under her bent hat. 
She did not raise her eyes from the ground, but 
the Bishop did not wonder at that. He thought 
it showed no more than a proper humility in his 
presence. 

“And hast thou seen anyone in the wood 
this day?” 

“None save a man in a green dress, who en¬ 
tered my cottage a short time back.” 

“Ah, ha! ” cried the Bishop; “a man in a green 
dress, sayest thou?” 

“Yea, my lord, and he was bearing a long 
bow and a sheaf of arrows, and on his head he 
wore a green hood. He entered my inner room 
to rest.” 

“On, on!” cried the Bishop. “We have him! 
We have him! Haste to the cottage and drag 
him out.” 

In their eagerness to seize the outlaw the 
Bishop and his men rode forward at once while 
the old woman hobbled on her way. But no 


194 ROBIN HOOD 

sooner was she hidden by the bushes than a most 
wonderful change took place in her movements. 
She straightened herself, she became nimble and 
swift, her hobble became a stride which covered 
the ground like a running deer, and away she 
flew at top speed for a certain glade in the great 
forest, where a number of outlaws were in wait¬ 
ing. As she hurried into the glade, Little John 
saw her, and broke out in wonder: 

“Who is that yonder coming over the lea? 
She looks so like a witch I’ll let fly an arrow at 
her!” 

Little John said this, for when he saw the 
figure of an old cottage woman moving at such 
wonderful speed he thought it could be nothing 
short of witchcraft. 

“Hold thy hand! Hold thy hand!” shouted 
Robin Hood. “Do not shoot your keen arrows at 
me for I am thy good master, Robin Hood.” 

“And is it you, master?” cried Little John, in 
amazement. “What brings you here in the guise 
of an old woman?” 

“I have had a narrow escape of falling into 
the hands of the Bishop,” replied Robin, and told 
Little John of his adventure. 

“By my faith!” cried Little John; “I think, 
master, we ought to show the Bishop that it is 
no safe sport to come into the forest to hunt us.” 

“I think so, too,” replied the chief; “wind 


THE BISHOP TRIES 195 

your horn, Little John, and call our brave fellows 
together.” 

Little John wound his horn, and the outlaws 
trooped up, till a hundred of them stood before 
Robin Hood, ready to obey his smallest com¬ 
mand. They stared in wonder at the figure of a 
poor old woman among them till they recognized 
their leader’s face under the broken hat, and 
when the story was known there was much 
laughter at the disguise and the clever escape 
which Robin had made. 

But we must now return to see how the 
Bishop had got on at the cottage. 

When he came to the old woman’s hut the 
Bishop called out furiously, “Bring out that 
traitor Robin Hood and let me see him!” 

“Burst in the door!” roared the Bishop, and 
the door was broken open, and soldiers rushed in. 

“Here he is!” cried the man. “Here he is! I 
know him again. This is the very fellow, in a 
green hood, who flew from us into the wood but 
just now.” 

“Drag him out!” commanded the Bishop, and 
three or four soldiers darted on the figure clad 
in Lincoln green, and dragged it from the corner 
where it was hiding. 

“Put him on that white horse, and guard him 
closely!” cried the Bishop; “and now back to the 
town at once to put him in gaol. I’ll never rest 


196 


ROBIN HOOD 


till I have him under lock and key, and to-morrow 
shall be the hanging day.” 

The old woman, who wore the clothes of 
Robin Hood, said nothing at all, and they 
thought the prisoner was silent from fear. Nor 
did anyone lift the hood to look at the captive’s 
face; all were full of eagerness to get away from 
the forest with the captured outlaw. As for the 
Bishop, he was as proud as a peacock to think of 
this clever seizure. 

He placed the old woman on a milk-white 
steed and bestrode a dapple gray himself. As he 
rode along through the forest he laughed for joy 
because he had captured Robin Hood. 

The Bishop laughed, till he came to the edge 
of the wood, and then his face became as long as 
a fiddle and his jaw dropped. For what did he 
see before him but five score archers, each with 
his bow bent and shaft on string. And the Bis¬ 
hop knew that they were outlaws, and that each 
of them was the match of four common bowmen 
such as he led. 

“Archers!” gasped the Bishop; “and see who 
appears to command them! By my gown, it is 
the old hag who met us in the wood. Who is she?” 

“Marry,” said the captive, “I think it is one 
they call Robin Hood.” 

“Robin Hood! ” cried the Bishop. “Then who 
art thou?” 


THE BISHOP TRIES 197 

“Hee, hee! Ho, ho!” chuckled the captive, 
and she threw back the hood, and the Bishop saw 
the skinny face and the toothless gums, bared in 
laughter, of the old woman. “Thou canst see 
who I am, my lord Bishop!” she cried in shrill 
tones. “What a clever lord Bishop art thou to be 
carrying off an old woman for the King of Sher¬ 
wood, Robin Hood!” and she laughed and clap¬ 
ped her hands. 

“Woe is me,” said the Bishop, “that ever I 
saw this day!” for he saw that he was in a trap, 
and at the next moment a shower of shafts came 
whistling among his followers, who at once took 
to flight. 

The Bishop wheeled his dapple gray, and 
drove the spurs home, thinking to escape, but 
the outlaws were too quick for him. Much and 
Will Stutely ran like hares, and seized the bridle 
of the dapple gray, and next came Robin, strid¬ 
ing along in his disguise, and tied the Bishop’s 
horse to a tree and made the Bishop alight. 

“What, my lord Bishop,” he laughed, “and 
have you come again to visit us in the green¬ 
wood? I fear we cannot invite you to another 
merry feast, for we may not stay to prepare it.” 

“We have time to see what is in his port- 
mantle,” said Little John, and he searched the 
saddle bags, and took all the Bishop’s money— 
the very money which the Bishop had brought to 


198 ROBIN HOOD 

give the men-at-arms if they should seize Robin 
Hood. 

“Give fifty silver pennies to the old woman,” 
said Robin Hood, “for she has saved my life this 
day,” and it was done. 

The Bishop looked on with a very sour face 
while a division was made of his money, but he 
could not help himself, and was only too glad to 
hear Robin Hood say, “Now, let him go.” 

“Bishop, Bishop!” cried Little John, laugh¬ 
ing, “you have made a sorry business of your 
hunting this day, and you know how a rogue is 
made to ride through the town in penance. In 
that way shall you return to Nottingham.” 

So the Bishop was made to mount the dapple 
gray, with his face to the horse’s tail, and thus 
he was led through the wood, and the dapple 
gray sent at a canter along the road towards 
Nottingham. And thus, riding backwards in 
disgrace, the Bishop went back to the town, with 
neither money nor prisoner. 


Chapter XVI 


ROBIN HOOD BECOMES A BUTCHER 

F OR some time after the Bishop was sent 
back to Nottingham in disgrace the outlaws 
were left in peace in Sherwood Forest. They 
hunted the fat deer, mended their bows and 
feathered their arrows around the evening fire, 
slept quietly, wrapped in their green mantles, 
and kept a sharp look out for their enemies. 

One morning Robin Hood woke, with a rest¬ 
less feeling at his heart. This quiet time was 
irking him; he felt that he must undertake some 
adventure, and he made up his mind to go to Not¬ 
tingham and see how things were faring in the 
town. He said nothing of his intention to Little 
John, for he knew that his faithful follower 
would urge him not to venture into such a nest of 
enemies, but slipped away by himself. 

He took care that he should not be easily 
recognized, for to be known for Robin Hood 
inside the walls of Nottingham town would be a 
dangerous business. So he put off his dress of 
Lincoln green, donned a plain russet suit, and 
( 199 ) 



200 ROBIN HOOD 

went his way, looking like a worthy yeoman or 
tradesman. 

Within two or three miles of the town Robin 
came to a place where two roads met, and here 
he saw a butcher going to market with a fine 
mare; over the back of the mare were slung pan¬ 
niers full of meat. 

“Good morrow, good fellow!” cried Robin. 
“Where do you dwell and whither are you 
going?” 

“No matter where I dwell,” replied the 
other; “I am a butcher, and I am going to Not¬ 
tingham to sell my meat.” 

“Say you so?” cried Jolly Robin, into whose 
mind a plan had just come. “Why, now, it is my 
great fancy to become a butcher. Will you sell?” 

“Sell what?” said the butcher. 

“The mare, the panniers, and the load of 
meat,” replied Robin. “Come, put your own price 
on them.” 

“The price of my meat and the mare,” replied 
the butcher, “is four marks, and that is cheap 
enough.” 

“Pour marks I will give at once,” answered 
Robin, and drew out his purse. The money was 
counted into the hand of the butcher, and the 
bargain was completed on the spot. The butcher 
turned home, and Robin Hood drove the mare on 
towards Nottingham. 


ROBIN HOOD SELLS MEAT 201 

“Now,” thought Robin, “I shall enter the 
town with as innocent an air as one could wish. 
Who will look twice at a tradesman coming to 
market with his load?” 

He drove the mare through the gates with¬ 
out looking to right or left, and no man chal¬ 
lenged him; he went into the market, and found 
the stall which the butcher used, and set his 
meat on it. Soon the butchers’ row became busy 
with people who had come marketing, and the 
butchers began to shout, “Come, buy! buy! buy! 
Fine and prime meat, come buy! buy! buy!” 

When Robin heard the other butchers crying 
their wares he began to cry his, too, and when 
customers came he gave them, in his ignorance, 
as much meat for a penny as other butchers were 
giving for three. The news of this soon got 
abroad, and Robin’s stall was crowded with buy¬ 
ers, while his rivals sold nothing at all. 

The butchers began to scratch their heads, 
and stare at each other. 

“Who is the newcomer?” they said. “He will 
ruin us. He sells as much for one penny as we do 
for three. We shall get no custom at all.” 

Some of them began to sell a little cheaper, 
but still the buyers thronged about Robin. 

“This is some prodigal fellow,” said one of 
the butchers. “He has sold his father’s land, and 
is wasting the money in this stupid fashion.” 


14 


202 ROBIN HOOD 

“Ay,” said another, “or he hath stolen his 
beasts, and so can sell very cheap.” 

“Listen to me,” said a third; “he is, mayhap, 
some gallant in disguise, who is selling cheap 
meat to win a wager.” 

“Let us become acquainted with him,” said a 
fourth. “I will go up to him and ask him to join 
us at the butchers’ feast to-day.” 

So he stepped up to Robin, who was just 
handing over the last joint on the stall, and said, 
“Come, brother, we be all of one trade, and should 
know each other better. Will you dine with us 
to-day, for it is the day of the butchers’ feast?” 

“Indeed, yes,” said Jolly Robin, “I will go to 
feast with you, my true brethren, as fast as I 
can.” 

“Good,” said the other; “the feast is to be 
held at the house of the Sheriff. We will go there 
together.” 

So when the market was over the butchers 
trooped off to the Sheriff’s house. Robin grinned 
to himself as he went into the hall, and saw the 
mean, miserly looking, old Sheriff sitting there 
at the head of the board. 

“If yonder old hunks but knew who I was, 
there would be a fine to-do,” thought bold Robin. 

The feast was set on the long table, and 
Robin, as the youngest butcher there, was asked 
to say grace, and he did so. Then he called upon 
































































































































































204 ROBIN HOOD 

the company to drink as deeply as they pleased 
at his expense. 

“Come, brothers, be merry,” said Jolly Robin. 
“Let’s drink and never give over, for I’ll pay the 
shot ere I go if it cost me more than five pounds.” 

“This is a mad blade,” said one of the butch¬ 
ers in the Sheriff’s ear, and he told the story of 
Robin and the cheap meat. The Sheriff pursed 
his lips, and shook his head. 

“He is some wild prodigal,” said the Sheriff, 
“who has sold his land and is getting rid of the 
money as fast as he can.” 

“That’s just what we thought,” replied the 
butcher; “we said the very same thing.” 

During the rest of the feast the Sheriff ate 
and drank but little. He was deep in thought, 
and ever and anon he cast a sly and wily glance 
at Robin. 

“That careless spendthrift is casting his 
money from him with both hands, I know,” said 
the Sheriff to himself. “Why should not I get 
some of it?” And the Sheriff sighed as he 
thought of his empty treasure house, which so 
sorely needed refilling. 

“I may get a little from him,” reflected the 
Sheriff, “and I am thankful for even small gains 
since I was stripped so completely by that ajch- 
rogue Robin Hood and his knaves of followers.” 

So, when the feast was over, the Sheriff took 


ROBIN HOOD SELLS MEAT 205 


a seat beside the young butcher, and began to 
talk pleasantly with him. 

“I have heard of the joke you played this 
morning,” said the Sheriff, wrinkling his nut¬ 
cracker face into a harsh grin, as if he loved a 
joke as well as any one. “You put the curb on our 
butchers with your splendid pennysworth of 
meat.” 

“I fear me I made but a lame hand of it,” re¬ 
plied Robin; “the truth is I am new at the trade, 
and I scarce know the value of beasts as yet.” 

“Have you many?” asked the Sheriff, 
smoothly. 

“Hundreds,” replied Robin, “and they pas¬ 
ture on a hundred acres of good free land.” 

“Why, that is a very pretty little estate,” re¬ 
turned the Sheriff. 

“Well enough,” replied Robin carelessly, 
“but I would gladly change it for ready money.” 

“Ay, ay,” thought the Sheriff to himself; 
“here is your true spendthrift—always eager to 
get money to spend on his pleasures. Beshrew 
me, if I turn not this to great advantage.” Then 
he spoke aloud. “Why, then, have you not al¬ 
ready sold your beasts and land?” 

“I have found no purchaser,” said Robin, 
yawning, and stretching his arms, “though, to be 
sure, I am willing to sell at an easy rate. But 
none seems to have money to buy.” 


206 


ROBIN HOOD 


“True, true,” said the Sheriff; “times are 
hard, and money is scarce. But sooner than see 
you lack a purchaser, I would make a bid myself.” 

“How much would you give?” asked Robin. 

The Sheriff named a sum about one-tenth of 
the value of the estate which Robin had de¬ 
scribed, and Robin agreed instantly to take it. 
They shook hands on the bargain, and the Sheriff 
secretly chuckled to himself to think how neatly 
he was stripping this wild spendthrift. 

“The day is not far spent,” said Robin. 
“What say you to an hour’s ride to see the beasts 
and the land?” 

“With all my heart,” said the Sheriff. “And 
I will bring the money, and pay you on the spot, 
and take possession at once.” 

“Good,” said Robin. “Short bargains make 
long friends. And I protest and vow that I will 
make over the beasts and land to you as freely 
as ever my father made them over to me.” Then 
he smiled to himself as the Sheriff hurried away 
to get the money and order a horse for the ride. 

In a short time they set out, Robin riding the 
mare he had bought from the butcher and the 
Sheriff riding his own nag. Robin took the road 
which skirted the Sherwood Forest, and soon 
they were deep among the outlying woodlands. 

“I had rather your estate lay in some other 
direction,” said the Sheriff uneasily. “I like not 


ROBIN HOOD SELLS MEAT 


207 


this forest. God bless us this day, Master 
Butcher, and keep us from that rogue, Robin 
Hood.” 

“Pooh! ” said the butcher. “I care not a snap 
of my finger for aught that Robin Hood could do 
tome. Best let us ride on. We may come in sight 
of the beasts at any moment now.” 

They rode on and turned a bend in the way; 
the butcher reined in his horse and laid his hand 
on the bridle of the other. 

“Stop you, Sir Sheriff—stop!” he said. “Here 
be my horned beasts. What think you of them? 
Are they not fat and fair to see?” 

The Sheriff gasped in wonder, and his heart 
began to beat thickly in alarm. Before him a 
herd of a hundred of the King’s deer were calmly 
feeding in a grassy glade of the forest. 

“What is this trick, fellow?” blustered the 
Sheriff. “We came hither to see the cattle.” 

“Nay, nay, Sir Sheriff,” laughed the other. “I 
never promised you aught but horned beasts, and 
yonder they stand.” 

The Sheriff began to feel more and more 
uneasy. “I tell thee, fellow,” he said, “I would I 
were gone, for I like not thy company.” 

“Why, Sir Sheriff,” said Robin, “be not in 
such haste. Here is the bargain I promised you, 
and I should like you to see some of my friends, 
who will gladly witness it.” 


208 


ROBIN HOOD 


Thereupon, Robin set his horn to his mouth 
and blew three blasts. In a few moments Little 
John and the whole company of outlaws 
appeared. 

When the Sheriff saw the outlaws troop out 
of the wood and surround him he cried out in 
fear. He saw that he had been completely trap¬ 
ped, and he turned to the butcher. 

“I know you now,” he cried. “You are Robin 
Hood himself?” 

“That am I,” laughed Robin, “and these are 
my merry men whom you do not love, Sir Sheriff. 
Natheless the bargain must be made. Put down 
the money, Sheriff.” 

And the Sheriff was forced to pay down every 
piece of the money which he had brought in order 
to buy the prodigal’s estate. Then his horse was 
turned round, and he was started back to Not¬ 
tingham a sadder and a wiser man, sadder be¬ 
cause his treasure house was now more empty 
than ever, and wiser because he had learned to 
his cost who the butcher was. 


Chapter XVII 


HOW ROBIN HOOD SAVED THE WIDOW’S 
SONS 

N OW it happened one day that Robin Hood 
went on a journey and left the band in 
charge of Little John. Six days was he 
absent, and on the seventh he crossed a ridge, and 
his heart leapt for joy when he saw far off a great 
mass of purple woodland, and he knew that he 
was drawing near once more to his beloved forest 
haunts. 

He was on the edge of the trees when he 
paused, and raised his head to listen. Some one 
was coming along the way and making sounds as 
of one in deep distress, crying and moaning. He 
waited a moment, and then saw an old woman 
moving towards him: she seemed to be in great 
grief, and the tears were streaming down her 
face. Robin knew her at once: it was the widow 
who lived in the wood, the old woman who had 
helped him to escape from the clutches of the 
Bishop. 

“Hey day, Gammer Green!” he cried. “What 
is to do now? Has anyone wronged thee, old 

( 209 ) 


210 


ROBIN HOOD 


friend? If so, by our Lady, he shall learn that 
thou hast a friend and protector in Robin Hood.” 

“Oh, Robin, Robin!” cried the old woman. 
“My sons! My sons!” 

“Why, what is amiss with them?” said the 
outlaw. 

“They have been seized by the Sheriff,” she 
replied. “They lie this day in Nottingham jail, 
and to-morrow they die.” 

“What, Hal, and Hob, and Dickon!” roared 
Robin. “Three as brave lads as ever twanged a 
long bow. This is heavy news, Gammer. How 
know you that their fate is so near? ” 

“I am just returning from Nottingham town, 
and I have had the news from Lobb the cobbler,” 
she replied. “Oh, save them, Robin Hood!” 

“Trust me, dame!” cried Robin, his merry 
face suddenly grim, and his eyes sparkling. “I 
am bound to do my utmost for any members of 
the band, and your sons have a special claim on 
me. I will give instant orders in the matter.” 

He hurried on at once, and never slacked his 
speed till he had gained the camp in the heart of 
the forest. Little John saw his master coming 
and stepped forward to meet him. 

“This is a bad business about Hal, and Hob 
and Dickon!” cried Robin. 

“Ay, master, it is,” replied Little John, 
gravely. “How heard ye the news so soon?” 


THE WIDOW’S SONS 211 

“I met their mother,” replied Robin Hood. 
“And how were the poor lads seized?” 

“Pure ill-luck,” returned Little John. “They 
were in hot chase of a great hart and ran fairly 
into the arms of a strong body of the Sheriff’s 
men. They were prisoners before they knew that 
they were in danger.” 

“They must be saved,” said Robin. “I can 
never face their mother again if I let the Sheriff 
put a noose round their necks.” And he sat down 
with Little John to make plans for cheating the 
Sheriff and winning the freedom of the widow’s 
sons. 

The next morning Robin Hood set off by him¬ 
self towards Nottingham town. The sun was up, 
and when it stood at the height of noon the 
widow’s sons were to die; so Robin stepped 
briskly along the road, for he knew he had no 
time to lose. But suddenly he stopped, for a foot 
passenger was coming towards him, and Robin 
scanned him, as he scanned everybody, in wary 
fashion. Then he marched on again, for this was 
a quiet palmer, a poor, ragged old fellow, who 
begged his way as he went through the land on 
pilgrimage. As they drew near each other, the 
palmer paused, and, leaning on his pilgrim’s 
staff, awaited Robin’s approach. 

“What news—what news?” cried the outlaw. 
“What news, I do thee pray?” 


212 


ROBIN HOOD 


“News enough,” replied the palmer, “for in 
Nottingham town yonder three squires are to die 
this very day. I have seen the gallows a-build- 
ing, and have seen the countryfolk flocking to 
the town in crowds to witness the execution, for 
it is not every day that three brothers are hung 
side by side.” 

Robin said nothing, and did not appear to 
pay any heed to this great piece of news. His 
forehead was wrinkled in thought, and his eye 
was running over the palmer’s dusty and tat¬ 
tered dress. Then he snapped his fingers briskly 
as one who has found what he sought. 

“Come, change thy apparel with me, old 
man,” laughed Robin. “Come, change thy 
apparel for mine, and here is forty shillings in 
good silver. Go drink it in beer or wine.” 

The palmer looked down in wonder at his 
travel-stained old clothes and then at the money 
in Robin’s hand, and then at Robin’s handsome 
dress of forest green. 

“Though thine apparel is good and mine is 
ragged and dirty,” he said, “thou shoulast not 
laugh in scorn at an old man.” 

“I do not laugh you to scorn!” cried Robin. 
“I am as serious as man ever was. Come, change 
clothes with me, and take the money to feast thy 
brethren.” 

So they changed clothes, and when Robin 


THE WIDOW’S SONS 


213 


had put on the old man’s hat, which stood full 
high on the crown, and the old man’s tattered 
cloak, patched with scraps of every color, black, 
and blue, and red, and the old man’s torn and 
patched breeches, and hose full of holes, and 
shoes which scarcely hung together, he was so 
transformed that Little John himself would not 
have known his master. And as Robin put on the 
palmer’s rags he made a score of merry jokes, 
and cried, as he ended and surveyed his sorry 
figure, “Well, it’s good habit that makes the 
man! ” But he had now what he wanted, a splen¬ 
did disguise, and away he strode for Nottingham 
town. 

Two hours later the Sheriff was walking 
along the town streets, his brow knitted in vexa¬ 
tion, for he had not yet found a hangman for his 
three prisoners. “But they shall hang, the ras¬ 
cals!” cried the Sheriff, “even if I have to swing 
them off the gallows with my own hands.” 

At this moment his path was blocked by a 
queer, little, bent, ragged old man, who called 
out in a shrill voice, “Heaven save ye, noble 
Sheriff! Heaven guard ye, my good lord!” 

“Well, old palmer, what d’ye want with me?” 
demanded the Sheriff in surly tones, thinking 
that the pilgrim meant to beg of him and at the 
same time resolving that he would not give the 
smallest coin. 


214 


ROBIN HOOD 


“Why, Sir Sheriff!” cried the tattered 
palmer, “I am told that to-day you need a hang¬ 
man.” 

“Ay, that I do, badly,” replied the Sheriff, his 
tones a little more pleasant as the palmer had 
not started to beg of him. “Ay, that I do, for I 
have had the great luck to get hold of three of 
Robin Hood’s rogues, and I will string them up 
by the head on the stroke of noon. Would that 
I had their leader to hang beside them!” 

“Ay, my lord Sheriff,” said the palmer, wag¬ 
ging his head piously. “I can understand your 
feelings. I have heard that Robin Hood hath 
done you great despite.” 

“He is the biggest rogue unhung,” growled 
the Sheriff; “but the day will come when we shall 
stand face to face, and then let him escape from 
my clutch if he can.” 

“Ah!” bleated the palmer, “it will be a sorry 
day for Robin Hood, I warrant you. But now, 
here is the matter of hanging these three fellows 
of his band. I am, I know, but a silly old man, 
yet I would fain hear what reward you would 
give me if I became the hangman to-day.” 

“A good fee—a good fee, old man,” said the 
Sheriff eagerly. “Thirteen pence in money and 
the suits of clothes from the bodies of the pris¬ 
oners, and, by my faith, old palmer, a suit of 
clothes, I think, would not come amiss to thee.” 


THE WIDOW’S SONS 


215 


“It is enough,” said the palmer. “I am your 
man, and I will take these fellows in hand.” 

At ten minutes before the stroke of noon a 
procession started from the doors of the jail and 
moved towards the market place. It was formed 
of a strong band of Norman soldiery, with the 
three prisoners in their midst. In front of the 
prisoners hobbled the old palmer, who was to 
hang them. The procession entered the market¬ 
place, which was so packed with a vast throng 
that the soldiers had to force a way for them¬ 
selves towards the grim gallows, where three 
noosed ropes hung from a beam. Around the 
foot of the gallows an open space had been 
cleared, and here the Sheriff was awaiting them. 

“Up with them—up with them, old man!” 
said the Sheriff. “Let me see thee prove thyself 
a good hangman this day.” 

“All in good time, my lord Sheriff,” said the 
palmer; “but first I must hear the last confes¬ 
sions of these men who are about to ascend the 
gallows.” 

Then he whispered to the prisoners, and, 
while the Sheriff thought that he was confessing 
them, he was really giving them his orders for 
the sharp piece of work now at hand. 

“Hang them up, old man-hang them up!” 
cried the Sheriff impatiently. “And hast thou a 
bag with thee to carry off their clothes?” 


216 


ROBIN HOOD 


“Ay, Sir Sheriff. I have bags enough,” 
laughed the palmer, and then he began to sing:— 

"I've a bag for meal, and a bag for malt. 

And a bag for barley corn; 

A bag for bread, and a bag for beef, 

And a bag for my little small horn.” 

“Of what use is a horn to thee, old fellow?” 
jeered the Sheriff. “I doubt if thou canst blow 
it.” 

“Can I not?” roared the palmer. “Nay, but 
thou thyself, proud Sheriff, shalt hear my blast 
and say if it be blown truly.” 

And with these words a marvelous change 
came over the figure of the palmer. The bent, 
crouching form straightened itself and became 
a tall, commanding figure: the thin quavering 
tones were changed for a full, ringing voice, and, 
standing on the edge of the scaffold, Robin Hood 
raised his horn to his lips and blew three ringing 
blasts. 

The Sheriff knew him at once. 

“Treason! Treason!” shrieked the Sheriff. 
“Robin Hood! ’Tis Robin Hood himself! Seize 
him! Slay him!” 

But the guard of soldiery had other work to 
do than to seize Robin Hood: they were fighting 
for their own lives. For at the very instant that 
those shrill blasts rang over the heads of the 
crowd, scores of men, who had looked like com- 


THE WIDOW’S SONS 


217 


mon peasants, threw aside their cloaks and 
showed the Lincoln green of Robin’s men, and 
rushed forward with sword and buckler in their 
hands. 

“A Hood! A Hood!” roared a gigantic man 
at their head as they charged down upon the 
Norman soldiery. “A Hood to the rescue!” and 
the men in green followed Little John with an 
answering cry of “A Hood to the rescue! Robin 
Hood for ever! Down with our Norman 
tyrants!” 

In an instant there was the greatest confu¬ 
sion and uproar. The peaceable portion of the 
crowd fled in every direction to escape the fray, 
women screamed, men shouted, swords clashed 
on bucklers, and the guard, assailed on all sides, 
had their work cut out to look after themselves 
without attending to the disguised palmer on the 
scaffold. Beneath the gallows tree Robin Hood 
was as busy as any that day. He whipped out a 
sharp knife and cut the ropes which bound Hal, 
and Hob, and Dickon, and shouted, “Follow me!” 
and leapt down from the scaffold. The three 
brothers sprang after their leader with a shout 
of joy, and in an instant were surrounded by a 
band of their friends. 

“Draw together!” cried Robin Hood, and the 
outlaws formed in close order about their res¬ 
cued comrades. 


15 


218 


ROBIN HOOD 


“March for the gates!” was the next order, 
and the forest band pressed steadily across the 
market place. Twice they were assailed by the 
Sheriff’s men and twice they drove the soldiery 
off with showers of keen shafts and shrewd 
strokes of sword play. Soon the gates were 
reached, and these stood wide open, for Little 
John had left Much and Will Stutely and a dozen 
more to master the guard as soon as they heard 
the uproar break out in the square. This had 
been done, and the warders were already dis¬ 
armed and bound when the outlaws came march¬ 
ing in triumph to the gates. Out they trooped 
to the open country, and then Little John banged 
the gates behind them, and locked them, and 
marched off with the key, so that no pursuit 
could be made. On the edge of the forest they 
met the poor old widow, who had been waiting in 
trembling hope that Robin would make good his 
promise of rescuing her sons. And when she saw 
Hal, and Hob, and Dickon safe and sound among 
their friends she wept again, but this time for 
pure joy, and she blessed Robin Hood a thousand 
times. 


Chapter XVIII 


ROBIN HOOD MEETS MAID MARIAN IN 
SHERWOOD FOREST 

N OW, while Robin Hood was leading his 
men in Sherwood Forest and living the 
life of a bold outlaw, his thoughts were 
often full of some one whom he had left behind 
in his old home. This was Maid Marian, the beau¬ 
tiful daughter of a great man whose house had 
stood near Robin’s home. Robin Hood and Maid 
Marian had been close friends since childhood. 
They had played together, hunting for birds’ 
nests, fishing in the brook, climbing trees or run¬ 
ning races over the meadow grass, and when 
Robin was forced to go out into the world he bore 
a sore heart with him after parting with Marian. 

Since Robin’s departure things had gone 
very hardly with Marian also. Her parents died, 
her friends proved unkind, and her heart often 
dwelt on the friend of her youth—bold, brave 
Robin. For a long time she did not know where 
he was, but at last his name began to ring 
through the North Countree, and she knew that 
her old friend had become the renowned outlaw 

( 219 ) 


220 ROBIN HOOD 

of whose daring deeds minstrels sang, and of 
whom men talked as they sat about the evening 
fire. At last, lonely and friendless as she was, 
Maid Marian resolved to seek Robin in Sherwood 
Forest and see if he still remembered the old 
happy days of their childhood. But she knew 
how unsafe it was for a woman to travel about 
the country alone, so she put on the dress of a 
page and took quiver and bow, sword and buck¬ 
ler, and thus armed and disguised she set out to 
seek Robin. At last she reached the skirts of the 
great forest, and as soon as she entered the dark 
shades of the mighty oaks she looked eagerly 
forward to watch for the first sign of a forest 
dweller who could direct her to the haunts of her 
old friend. 

As it happened, that very morning Robin had 
set out alone to make an expedition in search of 
news. He had taken great care to disguise him¬ 
self, for his fate would be certain if he fell into 
the hands of the Foresters. The Sheriff, fuming 
with rage at the clever manner in which Robin 
had outwitted him and brought off the widow’s 
sons, had given orders that every outlaw should 
be put to death upon capture, and no mercy 
whatever should be shown. 

So Robin went out in a ragged suit of hod¬ 
den-gray* with a big hat down over his face, and 

*A coarse gray cloth. 



MAID MARIAN IN SHERWOOD 221 

a huge patch over his left eye, and a tattered 
cloak huddled over his shoulders. He had been 
walking an hour or more when he saw the figure 
of a handsomely dressed stripling coming along 
the way towards him. Robin at once stepped out 
of sight behind a bush until he could be sure that 
the youth was alone. In these days it behoved 
him to be wary, so many and so fierce were his 
enemies. He suspected some trap or stratagem 
at the sight of every stranger. But the youth 
came on with a quick, even step, and seemed to 
be entirely alone. Just as he was passing the 
bush behind which Robin stood, the outlaw 
sprang out and commanded him to stand. 

“Who art thou, and what dost thou want in 
Sherwood?” demanded Robin Hood. 

The stranger was Maid Marian, and she 
looked at Robin and never dreamed that her old 
friend stood before her in the person of this wild, 
ragged man of the woods. She thought it was 
some savage freebooter who would belike plun¬ 
der her, and she sprang back and laid her hand 
on her sword. 

“This is not one of Robin’s men,” thought 
Maid Marian. “This is some footpad whom I 
must meet boldly or I am undone.” So she said, 
“Stand aside, fellow, and let me go on my way. 
I have nought to do with thee.” 

“Ay, but I may have something to do with 


222 


ROBIN HOOD 


thee,” replied the tattered stranger. “Tell me 
whither and why thou goest through the forest 
or I must turn thee back.” 

“Turn me back,” said the page. “That wilt 
thou never do, rude man. Put me not to the need 
of drawing sword in my defense or thou mayst 
well rue the day.” 

“Why, this is a brave springald*!” laughed 
Robin Hood. “And what wouldst thou do with 
that pretty little bodkin of thine, youngster?” 

“Tis a bodkin that thou mayst find over 
sharp,” said the page, and drew the glittering 
blade from its sheath and waved it on high. 
“Give way, for I seek the heart of the forest and 
none shall check me.” 

When Robin heard that the newcomer was 
bound for the depths of Sherwood, his suspicions 
grew fast. It seemed to him that a bold, smart 
lad such as this was just the person the Sheriff 
might send as a spy, and he became resolved to 
turn the page back. “Nay,” said Robin, “I bid 
you return. Seek your own safety and leave the 
forest glades in peace or I shall be compelled to 
draw weapon also.” 

“Draw an thou wilt!” cried the other, “but go 
back I will not.” 

“The sight of my blade will frighten a mere 
lad like this,” thought Robin, and he drew out his 


♦Youngster. 



MAID MARIAN IN SHERWOOD 223 


sword and sprang forward and made a lunge as 
if in fierce attack. But, to his surprise, the lunge 
was deftly turned aside, and the slender page 
met him as boldly with sword and buckler as ever 
Robin had been met in his life. 

Clash-clash! went their swords as the keen 
blades grated together, but Robin did not put out 
the whole of his strength and skill against a 
mere lad like this, and so the combat lasted much 
longer than it would otherwise have done. Nor 
was the page at all unskilled in sword play, for 
on one occasion Robin’s guard was passed and 
he received a small wound in the face. The out¬ 
law became full of admiration for this brave 
young opponent and tried to make a peaceful 
ending to their fray. 

“Hold thy hand,” said Robin Hood, “and thou 
shalt range the forest with bold Robin Hood and 
hear the sweet song of the nightingale.” 

“What!” screamed the page. “Robin Hood! 
And are you indeed Robin Hood? And oh, 
Robin, I have hurt you! I knew you not, Robin.” 

The outlaw started in surprise at the figure 
before him. 

“Why, who art thou?” he said. “And why 
should it trouble thee that I am hurt?” 

“I came hither to seek you, Robin!” cried the 
page, “but never dreamed that I should meet you 
in this guise. And, Robin, don’t you know me?” 


224 


ROBIN HOOD 


Robin Hood stood for a few moments in 
greater wonder still at the fair, blushing face, 
then memory rose like a flood. 

“I know you!” he cried—“I know you now! 
You are Maid Marian. Dearest Marian, how 
came you here?” 

“I came to seek you, Robin,” she replied, “for 
I have no friend in the world but you. And I 
knew you not and have wounded you.” 

“Tush! that is nothing,” said Robin. “We 
get many shrewder cuts and knocks in the green¬ 
wood. And as for not knowing me, that is no 
wonder, for I am disguised lest my enemy, the 
Sheriff of Nottingham, should seize me.” 

The two friends now sat down on a mossy 
bank near at hand and fell into talk, telling each 
other how their lives had passed since their sep¬ 
aration. 

“And have you room for me in the green¬ 
wood, Robin?” asked Maid Marian. 

“Ay, and proud to see you there, Marian,” 
cried the outlaw. “Come, we will seek the wife of 
Alan-a-Dale; she will gladly take you under her 
care.” 

So they set off together and sought the hid¬ 
den glade where the band formed their camp. 
And right welcome did the wife of Alan-a-Dale 
make Maid Marian, and right merry was the 
feast which was held that evening. For Little 










































































226 


ROBIN HOOD 


John and Will Scarlet went off at once with their 
bows and killed a brace of fat bucks, and a joyous 
feast was held in honor of Maid Marian’s coming 
to the greenwood. The yeomen formed a jovial 
ring around a vast fire of great oaken billets, and 
ate their fill of the sweet venison, and washed it 
down with flagons of wine and brimming bowls 
of nut-brown ale. And so Maid Marian came to 
Sherwood and. reigned as queen of the forest 
revels. 


Chapter XIX 


SIR RICHARD OF THE LEA PAYS HIS DEBTS 

Y OU will all remember how Robin Hood 
helped the poor knight who had no money 
to pay his debts, and so stood in danger of 
losing his lands. Well, Sir Richard of the Lea 
did not forget his good friend in the greenwood, 
and when he had saved four hundred pounds he 
set off to repay Robin. He took with him also a 
hundred good bows and a hundred sheaves of 
fine arrows as a present for the kindly outlaw. 

This time Sir Richard rode through the for¬ 
est in very different case from his last journey. 
Then he was sorrowful and sad and looked the 
most wretched man in the world; now he was gay 
and cheerful, riding a good horse, and attended 
by a gallant band of men-at-arms. And all this 
change was due to Robin Hood, for if the knight 
had once lost his lands he would have been 
ruined for ever. So Sir Richard blessed the name 
of Robin Hood, who had saved him from the 
cruel, grasping hands of the covetous Abbot of 
St. Mary’s. 

Now, as the knight rode along at the head of 

( 227 ) 


228 


ROBIN HOOD 


his men, he came to a broad meadow beside a 
river and near the head of a bridge. This meadow 
presented a very lively, bustling scene, for the 
whole countryside had gathered there for a 
great merry-making. There were jugglers and 
tumblers, with gaping crowds round them; there 
were Saxon gleemen and wandering harpers; 
there were rude booths, where merchants and 
pedlars showed their wares; but the biggest 
crowd of all was gathered about a ring, where 
the best wrestlers had gathered from far and 
near to hold a contest for some very rich prizes., 

The winner of the wrestling match was to 
have a fine courser, whose saddle and bridle were 
burnished with gold—a splendid prize. To the 
second man would be given a white bull; while a 
pair of beautifully embroidered gloves, a gold 
ring, and a pipe of wine would fall to the next 
three in order of merit. With so many prizes it 
was no wonder that stout yeomen had thronged 
to the merry-making from all parts: every man 
hoped that one prize would fall to him, if it were 
but one of the smaller rewards. 

The crowd was so dense near the bridge that 
the knight and his men could not pass without 
forcing their way roughly. This Sir Richard was 
not willing to do, and, as the day was yet young 
and he had plenty of time, he sat his horse to 
watch the wrestling for an hour, while his men 


SIR RICHARD PAYS HIS DEBTS 229 


clustered about him, delighted to witness the 
keen contest which was expected. 

To the astonishment of everyone, there was 
no keen contest at all. And this lay at the door 
of a big, clumsy-looking fellow who shambled 
into the ring and threw every man pitted against 
him with the utmost ease. It did not matter who 
opposed him, the champion of this village, the 
best wrestler of that hamlet, every man went 
down as soon as the big fellow put his arms about 
an opponent. 

“Who can this be?” cried the people. “Such 
wrestling was never seen in England before. It 
is no match at all. The big fellow treats the 
others as if they were children coming against 
him.” 

Shouts of wonder and applause rose as the 
powerful stranger brought about fall after fall, 
but in a short time shouts of anger began to 
mingle with the outcries. The angry uproar 
burst from a band of Foresters gathered at one 
corner of the ring. They had come there to sup¬ 
port a comrade, Hubert o’ the Strong Hand, a 
famous wrestler, and they had laid heavy wagers 
on their champion’s success. 

The Foresters had jeered at wrestler after 
wrestler as he crept beaten from the ring. “Wait 
till Hubert faces yonder big fellow,” they cried. 
“Then ye will see what wrestling should be. Big 


230 ROBIN HOOD 

as he is, Strong Hand will toss him over one 
shoulder.” 

These taunts, jeers, and promises greatly 
raised the expectation of the crowd, and when 
Hubert stepped confidently into the ring all were 
excited by the hope of at last seeing a great con¬ 
test. But, though these hopes were at once 
dashed to the ground, yet the onlookers saw a 
wonderful piece of work. For the big wrestler 
seized Hubert of the Strong Hand and flung the 
Forester clean over his head. Arms and legs fly¬ 
ing like the sails of a windmill, the defeated 
champion whirled through the air and dropped 
flat on his back on the turf. 

“A foul catch!” roared the angry Foresters. 
“A foul catch! No throw! No throw!” 

“Nay, nay,” shouted Sir Richard, who loved 
fair play. “The hold and catch were fair enough. 
’Twas a true throw.” 

The Foresters knew that quite well; they 
were only raising a clamor and false accusations 
of foul play to cover the defeat of their champion 
and to avoid paying the wagers they had lain on 
his head. A great uproar now arose around the 
ring. Some shouted against the big wrestler; 
some for him. But the former were greatly in 
the majority, for he had earned the enmity of 
many parties by overthrowing the man in whom 
the party had put its trust. 


SIR RICHARD PAYS HIS DEBTS 231 

‘Tve seen that big fellow before,” mused Sir 
Richard; “but where was it?—where was it?” 

He thought for a while, then started in his 
saddle. “I have it—I have it,” he said to himself. 
“ ’Tis the big man who was with Robin Hood. 
Now I remember that he fetched the bag with the 
four hundred pounds in it. Ay, I am never likely 
to forget that.” 

Sir Richard was right. Yes, it was Little 
John himself. He had been out on a scouting 
expedition, and had heard of the wrestling, and 
had been unable to keep away. He had come 
intending only to look on at his favorite sport, 
but, at sight of the ring and the prizes, he could 
not restrain himself, and had entered his name 
as Will o’ the Glade, and had swept all before 
him. 

“Turn him from the ring!” roared the For¬ 
esters. “Away with him! ’Twas a foul catch! 
Let the wrestling begin again!” 

This cry was echoed by many who wished to 
see their men have another chance in a contest 
from which this terrible champion had been 
excluded, but there were plenty of lovers of fair 
play who spoke up stoutly for Little John, and 
said that he had wrestled fairly and honestly. 

Suddenly Little John stood in' great danger, 
for the angry Foresters had burst into the ring 
and sprang at him, several with sword in hand; 


232 


ROBIN HOOD 


threatening him with death if he did not at once 
retire from the contest. But they were threaten¬ 
ing the wrong man. The burly giant knew not 
what fear was, and stood his ground resolutely, 
and defied them all. He would have been severely 
handled, and, possibly, slain, had not Sir Richard 
interfered at once. Calling upon his men to close 
about him and follow, the good knight rode into 
the crowd and forced his way to the place where 
Little John stood in the midst of the angry mob. 

“Stand back!” cried Sir Richard to the For¬ 
esters. “Stand back, and offer no violence to the 
man!” 

The Sheriff’s men would have paid but little 
notice to the knight’s words had not the latter 
been seconded by the crowd. Great numbers 
present knew Sir Richard, and they called out: 

“We will take Sir Richard for our judge. He 
is a good and honest knight. We know him and 
trust him. He shall decide the matter.” 

The Foresters were overawed by the general 
voice, and the assembly became silent to listen to 
Sir Richard. 

“Come, come, my masters,” said the knight. 
“Is this our English fair play that anger should 
be shown to a man who has proved himself the 
best wrestler I have seen for many and many a 
day? I have watched every fall, and each was 
fair and true, and I challenge any man to deny 


SIR RICHARD PAYS HIS DEBTS 233 


it. Why, then, try to shout down a man whom 
no one can beat honestly in the ring?” 

These words went home, and caused a strong 
expression of feeling in favor of the big wrestler. 
Only the Foresters still looked darkly upon him, 
and murmured of what they would have done 
had not the knight and his men-at-arms inter¬ 
fered. 

It was now agreed that the first prize should 
go to the great wrestler, and the others should 
wrestle again for the lesser prizes. When the lat¬ 
ter were awarded Sir Richard bought the pipe of 
wine from the man who won it for five marks, and 
gave orders that it should be broached at once, 
that whoso wished might drink. This put the 
crowd in very good humor with the exception, as 
before, of the Sheriff’s men, who had been com¬ 
pelled to pay the wagers and were in the worst of 
tempers. 

They stood muttering among themselves 
and casting evil looks on Little John, who was 
now examining the noble courser he had won. 
Suddenly, in the strange way that a rumor 
springs up, there ran a whisper through the 
crowd that the famous wrestler was one of Robin 
Hood’s men. Perhaps some one else besides 
Sih Richard had recognized Little John, for, 
although the great fellow had disguised himself 
as well as he could, yet it was impossible for him 


18 


234 


ROBIN HOOD 


to hide his mighty frame, his broad shoulders, 
and brawny limbs. 

The whisper ran around and came to the 
Foresters’ ears in an instant. They leapt at it: it 
was just the thing they would wish to believe, for 
it put the famous champion into their hands. 

“An outlaw! An outlaw! Seize him! Seize 
him!” they yelled, and made a fierce rush at the 
winner. Then Little John knew that he must be 
quick to save his neck. He made one bound into 
the saddle, drove his heels into the flanks of his 
splendid steed, and was gone like an arrow from 
the bow. He had plenty of friends there, for the 
people loved the outlaws, and the crowd parted 
right and left to give him passage, and then 
closed up once more to block the way of the pur¬ 
suing Foresters. In a trice Little John had gal¬ 
loped over the bridge and was out of sight round 
a bend of the road. 

“By my faith, I am glad that the brave wrest¬ 
ler has escaped, both for his master’s sake and 
his own,” quoth Sir Richard, and he ordered his 
men to march on, and they followed the way 
which Little John had taken. 

Little John rode fast and far, and the splen¬ 
did courser did not pause in his wild gallop until 
his rider pulled him up in a glade, where Robin 
and a dozen or more of the outlaws were gath¬ 
ered. 


SIR RICHARD PAYS HIS DEBTS 235 


“How now, Little John, what means this 
haste?” cried his leader. “And from what noble 
hast thou taken this fine horse?” 

“He is mine, master, fairly won in fair strug¬ 
gle,” replied Little John, and he told the story of 
the wrestling, and gave much praise to the kind 
stranger who had seen that he received fair play. 
But Little John had not recognized the knight 
again, so changed were Sir Richard’s dress and 
mien. 

“And didst thou see aught on the road of the 
sad knight to whom we lent the four hundred 
pounds?” asked Robin Hood. 

“Not a sign, master—not a sign,” said Little 
John. “Do you expect him to-day?” 

“Ay, that I do,” returned Robin Hood, “for it 
is a twelvemonth this day since the money was 
lent, and before this sun sets it should be 
returned.” 

“Content you, master,” said the cheerful 
giant. “The sun is not at rest yet. I dare swear 
the knight will prove true and honest, for I 
remember that he had a trusty look in his eyes.” 

“Well,” said Robin, “I will not go to dinner 
this day until I have some guest to sit at meat 
with me. So take your bow, Little John, and go 
with Much and Will Scarlet and walk the Wat- 
ling Street till you meet with wayfarers. Bid 
them come to dine with me, whoever they may be. 


236 


ROBIN HOOD 


If they be rich they shall pay for their dinner, if 
they be poor I will share my goods with them, if 
they be minstrels or jugglers they shall make 
mirth for us.” 

Away went the three yeomen at once, and 
hurried up to the high road. They looked east, 
and they looked west, and saw no man. Then 
they looked along the way that ran towards 
Barnsdale, and what should they see there but a 
great concourse of people marching along. 

“By our Lady,” said Little John, “but our 
master will have guests enough to-day. Who are 
these coming here?” 

The yeomen looked closely at the train and 
saw that two monks in black habits rode at the 
head, each mounted on a handsome palfrey. 
Behind them came seven sumpter* horses, well 
laden, with a train of fifty-two spearmen guard¬ 
ing the party. 

“Why,” said Much, “a Bishop could not ride 
more royally than these black monks. By my 
faith, there is treasure of great worth on yonder 
sumpter horses or the guard would not be so 
strong.” 

“Brethren,” said Little John, “here are only 
the three of us, yet we must bring these men to 
dinner, or our master we dare not face again.” 

Much and Will Scarlet said not a word, only 

•Pack. 


SIR RICHARD PAYS HIS DEBTS 237 


nodded to show their agreement with these 
words, and the three outlaws took their stand at 
a place where the road made a sharp turn 
between high banks. In this position they com¬ 
manded the head of the column, and the two 
monks rode round the bend to find the three bow¬ 
men, shaft on string, standing full in their way. 

“Bend your bows,” commanded Little John, 
“and order that crowd to halt. I hold the life of 
the foremost monk in my hand.” 

When the black monks saw the outlaws with 
bent bows they drew rein, and the whole caval¬ 
cade was thrown into confusion. 

“Abide, churl monk!” cried Little John to the 
leader, who seemed to be a man of greater impor¬ 
tance than his companion. “Stand where thou 
art, and remember that thy death is in my hand. 
Evil thrift be upon thy head,” went on the out¬ 
law, “for thou hast angered my master greatly, 
causing him to fast so long.” 

The monk stared at Little John in surprise, 
and fear, and wonder: he did not understand the 
outlaw’s words, and he said at once, “Who is your 
master?” 

“He is Robin Hood!” cried Little John in a 
voice of thunder. 

“He is a strong thief,” replied the monk 
sourly, “and of him I never heard good.” 

“Thou liest!” cried Little John. “He is a 



238 


ROBIN HOOD 


worthy yeoman of the forest, and he hath bidden 
thee to dine, and thou shalt come.” 

Much and Will Scarlet had said nothing, but 
were ready with their bolts. Yet not one needed 
to be loosed. For the train of spearmen behind 
the monks melted away in a most wonderful 
fashion. Every man had heard the name of 
Robin Hood as Little John’s clarion tones had 
rung along the hollow road, and the very sound 
of that dreaded name had been enough. Every 
man feared an ambush, and before the three 
resolute outlaws they turned and fled, leaving 
only those whose bodies were covered by the 
arrows. 

“March on,” said Little John to the monks, 
and they were compelled to ride forward, while 
Much and Will Scarlet followed, ready to shoot 
if either should make an attempt to escape. As 
for Little John, he drove the seven sumpter 
horses with the help of a page and groom, all 
that remained faithful to the monks in their 
train of followers. 

And so they came to the forest and to the 
door of the lodge where Robin was waiting them. 

Robin stepped forward and greeted the new¬ 
comers with the greatest courtesy, doffing his 
hood, but the leading monk made no return to 
this polite salutation, and Little John became 
angry. 


SIR RICHARD PAYS HIS DEBTS 239 


“The fellow is a churl, master,” said Little 
John; “but I’ll soon make him doif his hood.” 

“No force,” said Robin—“no force. If he will 
not doff his hood for courtesy sake, e’en let him 
be. How many men had this monk, John?” 

“Fifty and two, master, when we met, but 
many of them be gone.” 

“Sound your horn,” said Robin, “that our fel¬ 
lowship may know we have guests.” 

Little John sounded his horn, and in a trice 
seven score nimble yeomen ran up to the spot, 
every man clad in scarlet mantle and well armed. 
The monks looked at this brave array and then 
uneasily at their sumpter horses as if they 
feared for their wealth. 

Soon the dinner was served, and the monks 
sat down to it, and Robin Hood and Little John 
helped them to the best that was on the board. 

“Dine well, monk,” said Robin to the Supe¬ 
rior. 

“Gramercy, good yeoman,” said the monk, 
“that will I, for your cheer is plentiful.” 

“Where is your abbey when you are at 
home?” went on Robin. 

“St. Mary’s Abbey,” said the monk. Robin 
lifted his eyebrows and gave a little laugh. 

“And what may your position be there?” 

“I am the High Cellarer,” said the monk in a 
very important voice. Robin laughed again. 


240 


ROBIN HOOD 


“Why do you laugh, yeoman?” demanded 
the High Cellarer. 

“I cannot help but laugh,” replied Robin, “to 
think that the High Cellarer of St. Mary’s 
Abbey should be my guest on this day of all days 
in the year.” 

“Why this day in particular?” asked the 
monk. 

“Because twelve months this day I lent four 
hundred pounds to be paid to the Abbot of St. 
Mary’s, and now the repayment is due. Perhaps 
you have brought it, monk?” 

“I?” cried the High Cellarer. “I have brought 
nothing. To whom did you lend the money?” 

“To a poor knight.” 

“Then let the poor knight pay his own 
debts,” cried the monk. 

“Well,” said Robin carelessly, “I thought 
perhaps the Abbot was sending the money back. 
It looks to me as if much treasure might be in 
yonder packs,” and he nodded towards the loads 
which had been taken from the sumpter horses 
and piled in a heap. 

“There is no money in there!” cried the High 
Cellarer hastily, “only some clothes and baggage 
of little account.” 

“No money?” and Robin lifted his eyebrows 
in surprise. “And art thou setting out on a jour¬ 
ney with no money for expenses by the way?” 



















































242 


ROBIN HOOD 


“Ah! now, you remind me,” said the monk 
quickly. “Yes, there is a little money, a small 
matter of twenty marks for spending silver on 
the road. Nothing to make it worth your while, 
good yeoman, to unloose the packs.” 

“No,” replied Robin thoughtfully, “and yet 
they must be opened. It may be that Saint Mary 
herself is returning the poor knight’s money, and 
has caused your twenty marks to increase mi¬ 
raculously. Open the packs, Little John.” 

The tall outlaw spread his cloak on the 
ground and seized the coffers which had been 
swung across the leading sumpter horse. He 
forced the lid of the first open and held it over 
the cloak. A glittering stream of gold poured on 
to the mantle. 

“A miracle! A miracle!” cried Robin Hood. 
“Did I not say that mayhap, the twenty marks 
would have increased?” 

Little John forced another coffer open, and 
a second stream of gold tinkled on the shining 
heap below. 

“A miracle! A miracle!” roared the outlaws 
in chorus, their sides shaking in laughter at their 
leader’s jest, while the High Cellarer looked on 
with a brow as black as night. 

“Count the money, Little John,” said Robin 
Hood. Little John did so, and found that it was 
eight hundred pounds and more. 


SIR RICHARD PAYS HIS DEBTS 243 

“Give the monk his twenty marks, Little 
John,” commanded the leader, and Little John 
counted out twenty marks. 

“There you are, monk,” said Robin Hood. 
“We have not robbed you of a single silver penny. 
From your own mouth we heard that twenty 
marks was every piece of money in your coffers, 
so our Lady hath wrought a miracle in bringing 
eight hundred pounds there, and it is clear that 
Saint Mary wishes to repay me double for the 
money I lent the Knight to pay her Abbot.” 

“Thieves and rogues you are!” burst out the 
High Cellarer fiercely. “Render back my Lord 
Abbot’s treasure or ye shall suffer under his 
heaviest curse. With bell, book, and candle he 
shall curse ye, and ye will be lost here and here- 
after.” 

“Gadzooks!” cried Robin Hood. “Here is a 
change of tone, Master Cellarer. Now you talk 
of Abbot’s treasure and curses.. But a fig for 
the curses of such a man. He is hard-hearted 
and covetous, one who grinds the poor, and will 
snatch the widow’s mite to add to his store. Dost 
think we care a pin for the ill-wishes, of such a 
man 7 Give the monk his palfrey, Little John, 
and let him begone, but the sumpter horses and 
the baggage are ours.” .... 

The outlaws welcomed this decision witn a 
loud shout, and the High Cellarer, on second 


244 


ROBIN HOOD 


thoughts, was only too glad to find that he was to 
get off in safety. He scrambled to the back of his 
palfrey and rode away, and his companion was 
allowed to follow him. 

Hardly had the monks disappeared among 
the trees than Sir Richard of the Lea rode into 
sight, advancing from an opposite direction. He 
had spent a much greater time on the road from 
the wrestling than Little John, for, while the lat¬ 
ter had covered the way on a swift horse, Sir 
Richard and his men had come at a slow pace, 
many of his followers being on foot. 

“Heaven save you, good Robin Hood, and all 
your company!” said Sir Richard as he came up 
to the spot where the outlaw stood. 

“Welcome, gentle knight!” cried Robin. 
“Right welcome art thou to the greenwood. And 
how didst thou fare at St. Mary’s Abbey?” 

“Oh! the Abbot was very anxious to seize my 
land,” replied Sir Richard; “but, thanks to thee, 
kind yeoman, I ransomed it, and am here to-day 
as I promised.” 

“I feared I should never see thee to-day,” 
replied Robin. “It has gone so far towards the 
sunset.” 

“Do not blame me because I have been so 
long,” said Sir Richard. “I was delayed on my 
way. I came by a wrestling, and there I saw a 
poor yeoman hard pressed by unfair men. Him 


SIR RICHARD PAYS HIS DEBTS 245 

did I stay to help, and the more gladly that I 
think he was a man of thine.” 

“Ay, Sir Knight, it was I, and I thank you 
heartily for your help,” cried Little John, coming 
forward. “It would have gone hard with me at 
the hands of those rascally Foresters had you 
not stepped forward to see that I had fair play. 
But I knew you not, so greatly have you changed 
from your former figure.” 

“I thank you also, Sir Knight,” added Robin. 
“The man who helps one of my men helps me, and 
Little John is my right hand. I should be, indeed, 
lost in losing him.” 

“I am glad that I was of service,” replied Sir 
Richard. “And here, good Robin, is your four 
hundred pounds in this bag. Count it and see 
that the sum is right. And here, again, is twenty 

marks, a small present for a great kindness to 

„ >> 
me. 

“Put up your money, Sir Knight,” laughed 
Robin. “The debt has already been paid.” 

“Paid! ” cried Sir Richard. “What mean you, 
good Robin Hood? I have never a friend that 
would lay down so large a sum for me.” 

“By our Lady, but you have,” chuckled 
Robin, “and his name will surprise you, for it is 
no other than the Abbot of St. Mary’s.” 

“Never!” said Sir Richard. “Never can I 
believe that. What, can anyone think that a fat, 


246 


ROBIN HOOD 


greedy old rogue such he is would lay down will¬ 
ingly the sum required to clear my debt to you!” 

Robin laughed again. “Willingly I do not 
say, Sir Knight,” he replied; “but the sum has 
been received from his coffers, and I have given 
his High Cellarer a full discharge for the money 
by letting the fellow go free.” 

Sir Richard now began to see how the matter 
stood, and when he learned of the miracle which 
had changed the black monk’s twenty marks to 
eight hundred pounds and more, he laughed 
heartily. 

“But, all the same, good yeoman,” said he, 
“I must insist on paying this which I fully owe 
you.” 

“I will not take a penny,” declared Robin. “I 
have had my money, and that from the right 
hands. Now, Sir Knight, what means that array 
of handsome bows and beautifully feathered 
arrows?” 

He said this to turn the conversation, and Sir 
Richard replied, “In faith, they are meant as a 
poor present to thee.” 

Then Robin thanked him heartily, and the 
bows and arrows were given to the yeomen, who 
received them with delight, for the weapons had 
been fashioned by the most skilful craftsmen, 
and were of the finest quality. 

Little John,” said Robin, “go to the treasury 


SIR RICHARD PAYS HIS DEBTS 247 


and fetch the money which was paid me by the 
monk. Four hundred pounds were owing from 
St. Mary’s Abbey, and the monk brought eight 
hundred.” 

Little John fetched the four hundred pounds 
over and above the debt, and Robin Hood put it 
into the hands of Sir Richard. The knight did 
not wish to take it, but Robin insisted. 

“It costs much money to maintain the state 
of a knight,” said Robin, “while I spend but little 
in the forest here. And if you ever should be in 
sore straits again come to Robin Hood, and I will 
not fail to share with you while I have aught in 
my treasury. And now we will spread the board 
again, for you and your company must be hungry 
after your long march.” 

And so the feast was spread anew, and the 
grateful knight and his followers tasted of Robin 
Hood’s cheer, and blessed their noble host, who 
was the friend and helper of the oppressed and 
the unfortunate, and the enemy of all proud 
tyrants. 


Chapter XX 


ROBIN HOOD SELLS POTS IN 
NOTTINGHAM TOWN 

F OR a long” time after the widow’s sons were 
rescued from the hands of the Sheriff, 
Robin Hood and his men never went near 
Nottingham town. They moved to a distant part 
of the great forest, and kept far out of the way 
of the strong force which the Sheriff raised to 
search their old haunts. But one fine morning, 
when the birds were singing, and the sun was 
shining, and the green leaves fluttering in a 
pleasant breeze, Robin Hood, with a band of his 
followers, stood in a brake* watching a road 
which ran through the forest. Robin was think¬ 
ing of Nottingham town and how he would like 
to enter the walls and listen to the merry gossip 
of the market place, when a figure appeared in 
the distance. It was a potter, seated in his cart, 
and driving quietly along the way. 

“This potter is a proud fellow,” said Robin 
to his men. “He comes marching through our 


♦Thicket of ferns. 


( 248 ) 



ROBIN HOOD IN NOTTINGHAM 249 


forest, and yet has never paid a single penny of 
passage money.” 

“H’m!” said Little John. “He’s rather an 
awkward fellow to deal with. I once had a turn 
with him, and he hit me three such'blows that 
my sides ached for days. I’ll wager forty shil¬ 
ling that there is not a man among us can stop 
him.” 

“I’ll take your wager,” said Robin. “Stand 
here, my lads, and I will soon stop this saucy 
potter.” 

On jogged the potter’s cart, the pots clatter¬ 
ing together, and the driver whistling a blithe 
strain, and out went Robin to meet the potter— 
a big, burly fellow, with a red face. 

Robin Hood seized the horse by the head and 
bade the potter stand. 

“What is thy will, fellow?” cried the potter 
shortly, springing down from his seat. 

“All these three years and more, potter,” 
said Robin, “thou hast haunted this way, yet wert 
thou never so courteous a man one penny of toll 
to pay.” 

“What is your name?” said the potter. “And 
why, under the sun, should I pay toll to you?” 

“I am Robin Hood,” said the outlaw, “and 
thou shalt leave me a pledge this day.” 

“I will leave no pledge, and I will pay no toll,” 
said the potter sturdily. “Let go my horse, I say.” 


17 


250 


ROBIN HOOD 


When the potter saw that Robin still kept 
his hold on the horse, he ran to the cart and 
fetched out a great quarterstaff. Robin whip¬ 
ped out his sword and raised his buckler, and the 
men in ambush looked out eagerly to watch the 
encounter. 

“Yonder potter will make a stiff stand of it,” 
said Little John to his companions, and the words 
were scarce out of his mouth when they saw a 
very clever piece of cudgel play. The potter 
made a spring at Robin as if to deliver a swing¬ 
ing blow at his head, and when Robin raised his 
buckler to ward the stroke, the potter made the 
staff twirl in his hands like a mill wheel and 
delivered a back-handed blow which sent the out¬ 
law’s buckler clattering to the ground. 

Robin bent to pick up his buckler, for he did 
not dream that the potter could fetch another 
blow before the buckler was safely in his hands, 
but the potter was as quick as lightning. Down 
whirled the staff again, caught Robin across the 
neck, and sent him headlong to the ground. 

When the men in hiding saw this they ran 
forward, Little John shouting, “Let us help our 
master or else yonder potter will slay him.” 

When the potter saw the outlaws rushing 
forward he stepped back and poised his great 
staff ready to defend himself. Robin Hood sat 
up and began to rub his sore neck. 


ROBIN HOOD IN NOTTINGHAM 251 


“Well, master,” said Little John, “shall I 
have your forty shillings, or will you have mine?” 

“If the wager had been for a hundred shil¬ 
lings,” replied Robin, “they had been all thine.” 

“It is full little courtesy, as I have heard wise 
men say,” cried the potter, “to hinder a poor yeo¬ 
man on his journey when he comes driving over 
the way.” 

“You speak truth, potter,” replied Robin, 
“and thou are a stout yeoman, and if thou 
shouldst drive forth every day thou shalt never 
again be hindered by me. Come, join our fellow¬ 
ship. Give me your clothing, and I will give you 
mine, and will go to Nottingham in your place.” 

“Master, master!” cried Little John. “Have 
a care! What are you thinking of! You know 
very well that Nottingham is no place for you. 
Beware of the Sheriff! If he once knew you were 
in the town you were as good as a dead man at 
once.” 

“For all that my mind is made up to go,” re¬ 
plied the leader. “The Sheriff shall never dis¬ 
cover me, I warrant you. I will sell my pots 
under his very nose. The boldest way is always 
the safest.” 

When his followers saw that Robin was re¬ 
solved to go, they gave over dissuading him, and 
one ran to fetch Friar Tuck, who was very clever 
at disguising a man. The Friar came and made 


252 


ROBIN HOOD 


Robin look as different from his usual self as if 
he had been transformed by a fairy. Robin’s face 
was stained with the juices of herbs till he was 
browner than a gipsy; his hair and beard were 
dressed in a different fashion from his usual way 
of combing them, a big patch was fastened over 
one eye, and when Friar Tuck had finished with 
him Maid Marian herself would not have known 
her Robin. 

When he was ready to start Robin took the 
reins and drove the potter’s cart down the road, 
and the potter stayed with the yeomen, who took 
good care of him and made him very comfortable 
among them. 

Singing as he went, Robin soon came to Not¬ 
tingham, where he stabled his horse and gave 
him a feed of oats and hay. 

Next, Robin took his pots and marched 
boldly to a stand within sight of the Sheriff’s 
windows. 

“Pots! Pots!” he cried in a loud, merry voice. 
“Pots and pans! Good and cheap! Who’ll buy? 
Who’ll buy?” 

His ringing tones soon brought a group of 
women about him, and they asked the price of 
his pots. When he replied, they stared in won¬ 
der, for he asked threepence for a pot well worth 
fivepence, and in a few moments he was selling 
pots as fast as he could hand them out. 


ROBIN HOOD IN NOTTINGHAM 253 


“This is a queer fellow,” said the women of 
the town. “He is selling his pots at about half 
the usual price. It is plain he does not know 
much about his trade, but it is a lucky chance for 
us, and we will buy while we may.” 

When the news spread that there was a 
strange potter selling pots at half-price a crowd 
of people gathered round the cart, and there was 
so much commotion that the Sheriff’s wife came 
to the window to see what the concourse meant. 

Robin had been waiting for this, and had 
been keeping back some of the finest pots on pur¬ 
pose. There were only five left, and these he sent 
at once to the Sheriff’s wife, asking her to accept 
them as a present from a potter on his first visit 
to the town over which her husband ruled. 

The Sheriff’s wife was pleased with the fine 
pots, and came herself to thank Robin for them. 
And she was so pleased with Robin’s politeness 
and good manners that she invited him to dine 
with herself and the Sheriff, and Robin accepted 
the invitation at once. 

In the hall Robin and the Sheriff met, and 
the potter bowed low to the great man. 

“Look what the potter has given you and 
me!” cried the Sheriff’s wife. “Five fine pots, just 
the things I stood in need of.” 

“He is full welcome,” said the Sheriff. “Let 
us wash and go to meat.” 


254 


ROBIN HOOD 


Now, as they sat at dinner, there arose a talk 
of a great shooting match that was to take place 
the same afternoon, and the prize for the winner 
would be forty shillings. 

“A good prize,” said the potter, and to him¬ 
self he said, “As I am a true Christian man that 
shooting will I see.” 

When they had enjoyed a capital dinner, all 
the company went to the butts to see the Sheriff’s 
men shoot for the forty shillings. 

As the prize was a good one, the butts were 
set up at a good distance from the shooting point 
in order to test the mettle of the archers. One 
after another the Sheriff’s men loosed their ar¬ 
rows at the mark, but the test was too severe, and 
not one of them got within half a bow’s length 
of the center of the target. 

“What dost thou think of the shooting, pot¬ 
ter?” cried the Sheriff. 

The potter smiled. “I would I had a bow,” 
he said; “then I would show you how we shoot 
where I come from.” 

“And a bow thou shalt have!” cried the 
Sheriff. “Thou dost look a stalwart fellow and 
shalt make trial of thy skill. Three bows shall 
be brought that thou mayst choose the best.” 

The Sheriff commanded a yeoman to fetch 
some bows, and when they were brought, the pot¬ 
ter looked them over carefully. 


ROBIN HOOD IN NOTTINGHAM 255 


“This is the best,” said the potter, and bent 
a string to it and drew it. “But it is not of much 
account, after all,” he added. “This is but right 
weak gear, Master Sheriff. Where I come from 
men can bend a bow twice as stiff as this. Nathe- 
less, I will make trial of it.” 

The potter now chose an arrow with care and 
placed it on the string. Then he drew the bow 
and loosed the shaft without dwelling for an in¬ 
stant on his aim. 

‘T the clout!—i’ the clout!” shouted the by¬ 
standers. “Well shot! Good bow!” To the sur¬ 
prise of all, the potter’s arrow stood quivering in 
the very center of the target. 

“Shoot again, my men!” cried the Sheriff. 
“What one has done, others should do, an they 
call themselves good bowmen.” 

The Sheriff’s men shot round again, and the 
potter shot with them. Not one of the men hit 
the target, but when the potter’s turn came he 
sent an arrow which lighted on the first arrow 
and cleft it into three. 

The Sheriff’s men looked darkly and angrily 
on the potter, for they felt great shame at being 
beaten so thoroughly by a stranger; but the 
Sheriff laughed loudly when he saw his guest 
bear away the mastery, and cried, “Potter, thou 
art a man, and art worthy to bear a bow in what¬ 
ever place thou goest,” 


256 


ROBIN HOOD 


“I would shoot better still,” said the potter, 
“if I had the bow which lies in my cart.” 

“Is it a bow of special worth?” asked the 
Sheriff. 

‘T faith it is,” replied the potter. “Why, I 
had it from Robin Hood himself.” 

You may be sure that the Sheriff pricked up 
his ears when he heard the potter mention the 
name of his archenemy. 

“Knowest thou Robin Hood?” demanded the 
Sheriff. “Potter, art thou one of his followers?” 

“That am I not, Sir Sheriff,” replied the pot¬ 
ter. “A follower of Robin Hood was I never in 
my life.” 

“How comest thou, then, to know him?” 

“Why, I travel through his country, and he 
has a friendship for me, and I am safe from his 
men. He loves, too, to try my skill in archery, 
and a hundred times have I shot with him under 
the gnarled oaks of the forest.” 

“I would give a hundred pounds!” cried the 
Sheriff—“yes, a hundred golden pounds if that 
false outlaw stood as near to me as thou dost this 
day.” 

“How now, Sir Sheriff?” said the potter. 
“Why this heat against Robin Hood? Surely he 
hath not dared to raise his hand against the 
power and dignity of the Sheriff of Notting¬ 
ham?” 


ROBIN HOOD IN NOTTINGHAM 257 


“Hath he not, the villain!” cried the Sheriff. 
“But in sooth, he hath done me great despite. 
My silver, ring, and money hath he purloined, 
and my bones hath he made sore, sleeping as I 
was forced to do on the gnarled and knobby roots 
of trees.” 

The potter seemed astonished and grieved 
to hear of such enormities, and the Sheriff poured 
the tale of his woes into these sympathetic ears. 

“He ought to be seized and dragged into 
Nottingham by the ears,” declared the potter. 
“And it is a strange thing, but I can tell you the 
very spot where you might lay hands on him to¬ 
morrow.” 

“Thou wouldst do me a great service, and rid 
the country of a stout rogue, if I could seize him 
by thy aid,” said the Sheriff. 

“It could be done,” said the potter, and 
looked craftily at the Sheriff, “but for such a 
deed there should be good reward, Sir Sheriff.” 

“Fear naught for that,” hastily replied the 
Sheriff; “only put him in my hands and I will pay 
thee gladly the hundred pounds.” 

“It is a bargain!” cried the potter, and 
smacked his thigh. “To-morrow, within three 
hours of prime, I will set you within full sight of 
Robin Hood.” 

“Ay, but not with a score of his rogues about 
him,” put in the Sheriff. 


258 


ROBIN HOOD 


“With not one about him!” cried the potter; 
“I happen to have learned all his plans for to¬ 
morrow, and you shall meet him quite alone.” 

“Good,” said the Sheriff; “I will requite thee 
as I have promised, never fear,” and home they 
went to supper. 

The next morning the potter and the Sheriff 
started early for the forest. The latter was at¬ 
tended only by a couple of strong fellows, for he 
did not wish to arouse attention by a display of 
great force, and he felt certain that the three of 
them would be an ample strength to deal with a 
man taken by surprise. 

When the potter took leave of the Sheriff’s 
wife, he bowed low before her, and thanked her 
for the good cheer’ she had spread before him. 
“Dame,” said he, “I pray you wear this in mem¬ 
ory of me,” and he gave her a beautiful gold ring. 

“Gramercy, good sir,” said the Sheriff’s wife; 
“I am much beholden to you for this handsome 
gift,” and so the potter and the lady parted the 
best of friends. 

For nearly two hours the potter drove his 
cart along the forest road, and the Sheriff and his 
men trotted behind on horseback. Then they 
came to a place where four woodland paths met, 
and the potter drew rein. 

“Here is the spot where ye may meet with 
Robin Hood,” he said. 


ROBIN HOOD IN NOTTINGHAM 259 


The Sheriff and his men looked uneasily 
round. It had seemed simple enough in the city 
to think of going out and seizing Robin Hood, 
but here, amid the solemn silence of the mighty 
forest, the name of the great outlaw seemed to 
have a different ring about it, and to become a 
name of dread and fear. 

“I see no sign of Robin Hood,” said the Sher¬ 
iff, and looked over each shoulder in turn, as if 
fearing that Robin Hood might spring out of the 
earth behind him. 

“No, but you soon will,” said the potter in a 
low, mysterious voice. “Hide yourselves in this 
brake, and take your swords in your hands. I 
will watch for him, and when he is close at hand 
I will sound my horn. Then do you rush boldly 
forward and seize him. After that I shall claim 
the promised reward.” 

“It is ready for thee,” said the Sheriff, and 
patted the bag of money tucked under his cloak. 

The potter left the Sheriff and his men hid¬ 
den in the thicket and went a short distance 
farther to an open space, where a spring of water 
bubbled up at the foot of a rock and ran away 
down the glade. Here he washed the stain from 
his face and hands and cast away his disguise 
save for the potter’s clothes. Then he raised his 
horn to his lips, blew three sharp blasts, and slip¬ 
ped behind a great oak which hid him completely. 


260 


ROBIN HOOD 


In a moment two parties burst into the glade. 
From the one hand, the Sheriff and his men 
dashed through the bushes, sword in hand, ready 
to spring upon Robin Hood. From the other, Lit¬ 
tle John, Much, Will Scarlet, and a dozen more 
burst into the glade to answer their master’s call. 
Robin Hood watched the meeting from cover of 
the great trunk and smiled. 

In truth, one might well smile to see the 
Sheriff and his men when they came face to face 
with the stout band of outlaws. Their mouths 
opened, their swords fell from their hands; they 
turned to flee, when a shout from Little John 
gave them pause. 

“Stand!” shouted the giant, “or we will stick 
ye as full of shafts as a boar is of bristles.” 

This fearsome threat fixed the three to the 
earth and they looked upon Little John and his 
companions with faces full of dread. 

“What make ye here?” cried the giant, “and 
who sounded Robin Hood’s horn?” 

“Robin Hood’s horn!” faltered the Sheriff. 
“Nay, good yeoman, I know naught of Robin 
Hood’s horn. Ye mistake. ’Twas only a potter 
who was with us but now and sounded the blast.” 

“Tell me no tales of potters!” cried Little 
John, apparently in great anger, though he be¬ 
gan to scent his leader’s trick. “No potter blew 
those notes. ’Twas none but the prince of out- 


ROBIN HOOD IN NOTTINGHAM 261 

laws, Robin Hood, himself. Hast thou done 
aught wrong to him? If so, a hundred deaths 
were all too little for ye to suffer.” 

The outlaws seconded Little John’s threat 
with a wild shout, and shook their bows in the 
air. “Death to him who molests Robin Hood!” 
they roared. 

The Sheriff trembled from head to foot. 

“Potter! Potter!” he cried. “Where art 
thou? Show thyself, potter!” 

“Here am I, Sheriff!” cried a well-known 
voice, and the potter stepped from the thicket 
whence he had been watching the play in high 
glee. 

The Sheriff stood stiff with terror. For 
naught was left now of the potter but his garb. 
The face was the face of Robin Hood, and the 
Sheriff knew it and trembled more than ever. 

“Potter! Potter!” he stammered, “thou hast 
played me false.” 

“Nay, nay, Sheriff,” laughed Robin, “say not 
so. I have kept my word like a true man and an 
Englishman. Did I not promise thou shouldst 
meet Robin Hood, and I have carried out that 
same promise!” 

“Ah!” growled the Sheriff. “Had I but 
known of this in Nottingham, ye had never seen 
the fair forest again, Master Potter.” 

“That I know very well,” laughed Robin; 


262 


ROBIN HOOD 


“but fear not, Sheriff, I will not hurt a hair of 
your head, and all for the sake of your good wife 
who was kind to me.” 

On hearing this the Sheriff plucked up his 
spirit at once, for he knew that Robin was a man 
of his word. At this moment Little John broke 
in, “Well, master,” said the big fellow, “how did 
you fare in Nottingham? Did you sell your 
ware?” 

“Every piece of it, Little John,” replied 
Robin, “and five pots of it the Sheriff had, and he 
has brought the money to pay for them in a bag 
under his cloak.” 

“The bag—the bag, Sir Sheriff!” roared the 
giant and the Sheriff, pulling a wry face, had to 
give up the hundred pounds he had thought to 
pay for the capture of Robin Hood. 

“He came on a horse. He shall go back on 
foot,” said Robin, and in a trice the Sheriff and 
his men were stripped of all their gear. Then 
Robin commanded that a white palfrey should 
be brought to the place, and a yeoman ran and 
fetched the animal. 

“Now, Sheriff,” said Robin, “off with you at 
once, and you shall lead this white palfrey home, 
and tell your wife that Robin Hood sends it to her 
with his respects. For her sake you shall go free. 
Had she not been so kind to me you should have 
had a worse time of it than this in the forest.” 




QTfje srtunk afcoap, onlp too glab to (mb 

fn'mgelf on fte toap fou'tf) sounb bouetf tn Jjte bobp 












































264 ROBIN HOOD 

The Sheriff slunk away, only too glad to find 
himself on the way with sound bones in his body, 
and trudged briskly along until he came to the 
town and his house. At the very door he met his 
wife, who had been watching from the window 
and had run to meet him. 

“How have you fared in the Green Forest?” 
she cried. “And have you brought Robin home? 
Where is he? Let me see him!” 

“Dame!” roared the Sheriff. “Never say that 
name again in my hearing. Ye have seen the 
rogue truly enough.” 

“I!” cried the Sheriff’s wife in wonder. 
“Never have I set eyes on him.” 

“Truly thou hast!” shouted the angry 
Sheriff. “’Twas the potter! The rascal who pre¬ 
tended to sell pots was none other than Robin 
Hood himself. And when he had drawn me into 
the forest he robbed me of my gold, my horses, 
my gear, and hath sent me empty back save for 
this white palfrey, that he hath given to thee.” 

She cried out in amazement to hear this 
strange news, and then she said, “Well, you have 
paid now for all the pots that Robin gave me.” 

“Ay, that I have, dame!” groaned the Sheriff. 
“I have paid right heavily,” and he dragged him¬ 
self wearily into the house, full of anger to think 
that Robin had tricked him cleverly once more. 

When Robin had started the Sheriff back to 


ROBIN HOOD IN NOTTINGHAM 265 

Nottingham he summoned the true potter before 
him and said, “Potter, what were those pots 
worth that I took to Nottingham?” 

“Two nobles!” cried the potter promptly. 
“That is what I would have made of them had I 
been there.” 

“Here is ten pounds in thy hand,” said Robin. 
“I have sold them at a great price, and thou shalt 
have thy share, and whenever thou dost pass this 
way, potter, remember thou art always welcome 
in the greenwood.” 

“Thanks, noble Robin!” cried the potter. 
“Would that I could meet with such a sale for my 
pots every day of the year!” 

Thus parted Robin, the Sheriff, and the pot¬ 
ter. As he left the scene the potter exclaimed, 
“Heaven have mercy on Robin Hood’s soul and 
guard all good yeomen.” 


18 


Chapter XXI 


LITTLE JOHN’S ADVENTURES AS A 
BEGGAR 

N OW as time went on and the name and the 
fame of Robin Hood and his merry men 
went forth in the land, abbots and 
squires, knights and friars all began to grow shy 
of the roads which led through Sherwood Forest. 
Poor men came by in numbers, for they knew 
that Robin would help them on their way, but all 
those who grew rich by oppression and fraud 
began to learn that it was safer for them to keep 
out of Robin’s reach. 

One night Robin Hood and Little John were 
sitting by the evening fire eating their supper 
of venison when Little John said: 

“Master, it is many a day since we had a good 
haul. There seems never a rich abbot or Norman 
knight with good store of gold in his saddlebag 
that passes through the forest nowadays.” 

“Let us be content,” said Robin. “We have 
good food, good clothes, and good weapons. 
What does man want more?” 

“I should like a little money as well,” grum- 

( 266 j 


LITTLE JOHN’S ADVENTURES 267 


bled Little John. “Why, I could make more by 
begging than by ranging the greenwood, with 
never a fat old churl passing by with a purse of 
gold.” 

“Thou, a beggar!” laughed Robin Hood. 
“What advantage wouldst thou gain in that 
trade? Soon should we see thee marching back 
to the forest with pockets as empty as thou didst 
start with.” 

“Nay, master,” replied Little John, “a beg¬ 
gar may carry a dirty bag, but, by my faith, there 
is often something good in it.” 

“Good meal, perhaps,” said Robin slyly; and 
both laughed as they thought of the cunning 
beggar who had tricked them so finely some time 
before. Then the two began an argument about 
beggars and their winnings until Little John de¬ 
clared roundly that he would take up the beg¬ 
gar’s trade for a short time and convince his 
master that beggars were better off and gained 
more money than people who only considered 
their rags and tatters would think. 

So the next day Little John set off on a beg¬ 
ging expedition. He put on a suit of tattered old 
clothes and a big hat with a broken brim, made 
a hump for his back by stuffing an old cloak up 
under his jacket, and hung a number of bags 
about him, for he said: 

“A bag for my bread, another for my cheese, 


268 


ROBIN HOOD 


and one for a penny, in case I get any, so that I 
may lose nothing.” 

Away he went at a sturdy pace until he was 
clear of the forest and far from his usual haunts. 
Then he dropped into the beggar’s saunter, 
twisted his body until he seemed as crooked as 
a pig’s tail, leaned heavily on his staff, and began 
to whine to the passers-by for charity. He had 
received little or nothing, and was beginning to 
think that his master was right about begging 
when he saw a band of four beggars on the road 
before him. He hastened at once to join them. 

“Good morning,” said Little John. “Good 
morning, good brothers, I had good fortune to 
meet you. Which way are you going? Pray tell 
me, for I should be glad of your company.” 

The beggars did not receive him in a very 
friendly fashion, for they were satisfied with 
their own company, and did not want a comrade. 
But Little John hobbled along beside them, and 
talked of the bad times, and how closely people 
kept their purses shut, and all the usual chatter 
of a true beggar, and they could not cast him off. 

One of the beggars was a lame man: he had 
his leg tied up, and went on crutches; the second 
was blind; the third was dumb; the fourth had 
only one arm, and he led the blind man, who had 
also a stick with which to feel his way. 

Soon after Little John joined this company 


LITTLE JOHN’S ADVENTURES 269 

they saw a village in the distance, and heard the 
slow tolling of bells. 

“Why ring all those bells?” asked Little 
John. “In truth, they are pealing slowly and 
heavily. I love to hear a bell go more trippingly.” 

“It is a funeral,” said the lame man. “Come 
on, brothers, there will be bread and cheese for 
us, at any rate, and perhaps a penny apiece for 
our pockets.” 

The lame man began to ply his crutches 
briskly, and the band of beggars hurried forward 
to join the crowd of mendicants which had gath¬ 
ered about the door of the village church. It was 
a wealthy franklin* of the neighborhood who 
had died, and, according to custom, a large quan¬ 
tity of food and money was being distributed 
among the poor and needy. The four beggars 
and Little John took up their places in the ranks 
of those waiting for charity, and before long 
each man received a huge hunch of bread and 
cheese and a silver penny. 

As soon as the dole had been given the crowd 
of beggars broke up and set off in every direc¬ 
tion; Little John still followed the four whom 
he had met. 

“Only one silver penny to each man,” grum¬ 
bled the blind fellow. “’Twas scarce worth 
breaking our journey to stay for that, brethren.” 


♦Landowner. 



270 


ROBIN HOOD 


“A penny is a penny,” said the lame man. 

“So it is,” cried the one-armed comrade; 
while the dumb man, of course, said nothing, but 
munched heartily at the bread and cheese. 

“And we have lost time,” growled the blind 
man. “Perhaps the wedding guests will be gone 
before we reach the manor house, and for the 
sake of this trumpery gift we shall have lost a 
good chance of enriching ourselves.” 

“Never fear!” cried the lame man, stumping 
ahead at a round pace. “We shall get there be¬ 
twixt day and dark, when the guests have drunk 
their fill.” 

“The very time for us,” grunted the one- 
armed man, who did not say much. 

“Oh, ho!” thought Little John. “These fel¬ 
lows are on their way to a wedding where they 
look for richer gifts than at a funeral. I’ll go, 
too. Perhaps there I can begin to fill my pouch 
and find a few coins to keep company with my 
silver penny.” 

So the four beggars posted ahead by hill and 
dale, and Little John hobbled after them. They 
cast him many an ill look, for it was plain they 
wished to be alone, and the one-armed man pro¬ 
posed once that they should fall on him with 
their staves and drive him away. 

“We have no time to waste,” said the blind 
man, who was the captain of the band. “Let him 


LITTLE JOHN’S ADVENTURES 271 

e’en follow to the wedding. There will be ale and 
wine flowing like water, and he will drink and 
forget all about us.” 

It was late in the afternoon when the beg¬ 
gars drew near the scene of the merry-making 
and the dusk was beginning to settle down. But 
when they heard in the distance the joyous peal¬ 
ing of bells and shouts of the festive throng they 
hurried on faster still, and at length gained an 
open space in front of a large house. Here a vast 
bonfire was burning, its flames leaping higher 
as it devoured faggots, tarred barrels, huge 
dried limbs of ash and oak and beech, and lighted 
the scene like noonday. Around this glorious 
blaze a merry company of maids and men danced 
gaily, while at another fire a whole ox was roast¬ 
ing, and barrels of ale and casks of wine were 
abroach on every side. 

Little John waited to see what his brethren 
would do, and was surprised that they did not at 
once seek the cooks and carvers, who were giving 
abundance of food to all who might ask for it. 
But the four beggars began to creep through the 
crowd where it was thickest, and Little John fol¬ 
lowed and watched. Soon he saw that they were 
thieves as well as beggars. For their hands went 
to the pouches and pockets of the most careless 
among the revellers, and drew out purses and 
slipped the latter into their wallets. 


272 


ROBIN HOOD 


Little John watched them, and saw purse 
after purse filched, and noted that the gains were 
passed over either to the blind man or the one- 
armed man, who were the treasurers of the band. 

“By my faith,” said Little John to himself, 
“an these fellows go to many weddings their bags 
are well lined, I warrant you.” 

When the beggars had stolen all that lay to 
their hands, they slipped through the crowd and 
left the place before the hue and cry was raised. 

“There will be a pretty uproar here when 
these revellers find their purses gone,” quoth 
Little John. But he did not stay to take part in 
that scene, for he did not wish to lose sight of the 
four beggars. 

It was no easy matter to follow them, for the 
night was dark, but Little John was not a for¬ 
ester for nothing, and he tracked them, as he had 
often tracked a deer, by the sounds they made 
when passing through bushes. For two hours 
or more the band of thieving beggars pushed on, 
and just after the moon rose they paused at the 
door of a wretched little house in a clearing in a 
wood. 

Little John could now see them easily, and 
he watched them enter the hovel, then went for¬ 
ward, pushed open the door, and marched in. 

“What, brothers,” he said, “is this your lodg¬ 
ing for the night?” 


LITTLE JOHN’S ADVENTURES 273 

The beggars turned in surprise and anger, 
and bade him begone: they felt sure he had been 
shaken off at the wedding, and here he was again, 
this big hump-backed, twisted fellow. 

“Away with you!” cried the lame man. “We 
want not thy company. How hast thou followed 
us here?” 

“Why should I not march with you?” urged 
Little John. “Am I not a beggar bold, just as ye 
are?” 

“Begone!” cried the lame man, and flour¬ 
ished his staff. “Thou art too crooked for our 
company.” 

His comrades laughed at this jest, and a sec¬ 
ond beggar broke in: 

“We have brethren in London, Coventry, 
Berwick, and Dover, but in all the world we have 
no brother as crooked as thou!” 

“Away, thou crooked rogue!” cried the lame 
man, again swinging up his staff, “or I will give 
thee one on the crown.” 

“Now, have at you all!” roared Little John. 
“An ye be so full of your blows, I will e’en have a 
try at ye. Fight on, all four, here am I to with¬ 
stand you. Cheats ye are, one and all, and I will 
show it instantly.” 

With that Little John stepped forward and 
caught the dumb man by the ear and nipped him 
shrewdly with finger and thumb so that the dumb 


274 


ROBIN HOOD 


man yelled with the pain and finding his tongue 
by a miracle, began to call Little John very bad 
names. Next, Little John fetched a swinging 
blow at the blind man’s head. But what did the 
blind man do but spring nimbly to one side and 
dodge the blow, his eyes wide open and looking 
out for the next sweep of the giant’s weapon. The 
lame man dropped his crutches, set feet to the 
ground, made one jump for the door and ran as 
nimbly as a hare, and the dumb man followed 
him. The one-armed man slipped a second arm 
from beneath his ragged cloak and caught up a 
staff which the lame man had dropped. 

But two men had fled and two men were left, 
for Little John stood between them and the door. 

The two beggars tried to fight their way out 
of the place, but every effort was in vain. The 
huge, ragged man parried every blow from their 
staves, and gave them such tremendous knocks 
in return that they reeled against the side of the 
house, and the bags of money under their cloaks 
clashed against the wall. 

“Strip, you knaves—strip!” roared Little 
John, chuckling to think that he had penned up 
the money-bearers of the band. “Strip, or I will 
break every bone in your skins!” 

The beggars were very unwilling to part 
with their hoard, but the giant’s stick was too 
dreadful for them to face any longer. 


LITTLE JOHN’S ADVENTURES 275 


“Off with cloaks and jackets!” cried Little 
John. Promptly he was obeyed. 

“Down with bags and wallets!” he said, and 
with very sour faces the beggars loosened the 
clinking bags, and dropped them to the ground. 

“Now, away with ye!” cried Little John, “or 
down comes my staff,” and in fear of his terrible 
stick they fled from the place. 

Little John now began to search the beggars’ 
clothes, and soon found some very heavy bags. 

“Ah, ha!” said the big fellow to himself, 
“many a fat purse hath been emptied into these 
bags, I warrant me, and now will I see what is 
stitched into this cloak, for it feels a monstrous 
weight.” 

“Then he got out of the beggar's cloak, 

Three hundred pounds in gold, 

‘Good fortune had 1/ then said Little John, 

‘Such a good sight to behold.' 

But what found he in the beggar's bag, 

But three hundred pounds and three? 

‘If I drink water while this doth last, 

Then an ill death may I dee (die): 

And my begging trade I will now give o'er, 

My fortune hath been so good; 

Therefore I'll not stay, but I will away, 

To the forest of merry Sherwood.' ” 

Away went Little John at once, and put his 
best foot foremost. He marched all night, and 
the break of day found him on the borders of 
Sherwood Forest. He pressed in among the 


276 


ROBIN HOOD 


trees, and now and again he sounded his horn as 
he went. Tan-ta-ra-ra! Tan-ta-ra-ra-a! the 
merry notes rang, and re-echoed along the wood¬ 
land glades, and announced his approach in the 
gayest and liveliest fashion. Presently he saw 
a group of yeomen, who had heard his horn, and 
recognized his call, and had come hurrying to 
meet him. At their head was his master. 

“What news, Little John? Come tell me how 
thou has fared with thy beggar’s task,” cried 
Robin Hood. 

Little John laughed, and flung down his 
spoils at his master’s feet. Clink-clank! went 
the heavy bags of money. 

“Why, what have we here?” cried Robin 
Hood in wonder. “What news is this, Little 
John?” 

“Nothing but good news,” replied Little 
John. “Indeed I have fared well in my begging, 
for six hundred and three pounds in red gold 
and gleaming white silver I have here for thee, 
my master.” 

He opened the bags, and poured out the 
money before the eyes of his amazed friends. 

“By our Lady, Little John!” cried Robin 
Hood; “but thou hast, indeed, proved a notable 
beggar. Here is a noble heap of money! How 
earnest thou by it?” 

Little John related his adventures, and his 


LITTLE JOHN’S ADVENTURES 277 

comrades laughed to hear how the tricksters had 
been tricked. Then they carried the money to 
the treasure house, and that night there was a 
mighty feast in honor of Little John, the prince 
of beggars. 


Chapter XXII 


HOW ROBIN HOOD WAS SEIZED BY 
THE SHERIFF 

A MORE lovely May morning never dawned 
than the Sunday morning after Little John 
returned from his begging expedition. 
The sun was hot and bright, and the young leaves 
shook in a sweet, gentle breeze, which was loaded 
with fragrance as it swept softly through the 
forest. The grass was dotted with wild flowers, 
and the dappled deer had left the sunny heights 
to lie in the shade of the greenwood trees: it was 
the most delightful day of that delightful time 
of early summer. And it was Whitsunday. 

“By my faith,” said Little John to his master, 
“but this is a merry morning, and I feel in tune 
with it: a more merry uian than I doth not live 
to-day in Christendom.” 

But Robin Hood made no answer, and Little 
John saw that there was a cloud on his master’s 
brow. 

“Pluck up thy heart, my dear master,” said 
Little John, “and bethink thee it is a full fair 
time in a morning of May.” 

( 278 ) 


HOW ROBIN HOOD WAS SEIZED 279 

“It troubles me much,” said Robin Hood, 
“that on so solemn a day as this I can go neither 
to Mass nor matins. It is long now since I stood 
in a church to worship.” 

“There is no church nearer than Notting¬ 
ham,” said Much the Miller’s son, who stood near 
at hand. 

“And to Nottingham I will go!” cried Robin, 
taking one of his sudden determinations. “Yes, 
I will attend St. Mary’s Church in Nottingham 
this very day.” 

Much and Little John tried to dissuade him, 
but all to no purpose. 

“None will suspect me of entering the town 
on a Sunday,” replied Robin, “and I will wear 
a gray suit with a large hood and pull the hood 
over my face. I shall go and come as safely as 
walking to and fro in the glade.” 

“Well, master,” said Much, “then take a 
dozen stout fellows with you, each man with his 
weapons, so that help may be at hand if you 
should need it.” 

“Nay,” said Robin. “Twelve men would 
draw attention at the gate, where only one or 
two would pass unnoticed. Of all merry men I 
will have none save Little John to bear my bow.” 

So Robin Hood and Little John set off to¬ 
gether through the forest towards Nottingham. 
Now, it happened that as they went they fell into 


280 


ROBIN HOOD 


a wrangle, and the dispute grew so high that 
Robin Hood quite lost his temper and struck 
Little John a blow with his hand. 

The giant was very angry at this insult and 
whipped out his sword. 

“Had any man but my master struck me!” 
cried Little John, “his blood should have stained 
this bright sword. Now, thou mayest get a man 
where thou wilt, Robin Hood, but thou gettest 
me no more.” 

So they parted in wrath, and, while Robin 
went on towards Nottingham, Little John turned 
back to the forest. Robin’s anger soon died away, 
and he felt very sorry to think he had vexed his 
faithful follower. “I will pray at St. Mary’s altar 
that Little John may be reconciled to me again,” 
he said, as he came in sight of the town and saw 
the church tower rising high above the walls. 

He passed through the gate easily, for the 
warders did not look twice at a single man in the 
gray clothes of a peasant, and Robin went 
straight to the church. The service was about 
to begin, and he knelt down before the altar and 
prayed that he might leave the town as safely 
as he came in. 

Now, about the middle of the service, a tall 
monk, in a black habit, entered the church and 
began to move softly up the aisle towards his 
place in the chancel. Suddenly he stopped in 


HOW ROBIN HOOD WAS SEIZED 281 

the shadow of a pillar and stared with all his 
eyes. Just beyond the pillar, a man was kneel¬ 
ing devoutly on the rushes spread over the floor 
of the church. The man was clad in gray, and 
his hood had fallen back, for he raised his head 
in eager attention to the priest who was reading 
the service. 

The black monk looked again and again. 
Surely he knew that face. Yes, he was now quite 
sure, and the monk’s eyes were filled with the 
light of anger and hatred, as he turned and 
glided swiftly down the church again. 

Robin Hood knelt on, quite unconscious that 
he stood in the greatest danger, quite uncon¬ 
scious that the High Cellarer of St. Mary’s had 
recognized him and was now moving hot-foot to 
take measures for his capture. 

The black monk came to the door of the 
church, and now he fairly ran, such was his haste, 
to warn the authorities. First, he hurried to the 
gates, and spoke to the warders. “Close the gates. 
Lock and bar them!” he cried. “There is a great 
felon in the town. Your heads will answer for 
it if ye let any man pass to or fro until the Sheriff 
gives you leave.” 

The warders made haste to shut the gates 
and place themselves on guard. 

“Now, I have Robin Hood, yea, Robin Hood 
himself!” cried the black monk exultantly, as he 


IS 


282 


ROBIN HOOD 


sped to the Sheriff’s house. “He cannot leave the 
town, and he lies in our hands like a bird in a 
trap.” 

Into the Sheriff’s hall the black monk burst 
without ceremony, and found the great man sit¬ 
ting idly in his chair. 

“Up, Sir Sheriff!” cried the High Cellarer. 
“Up, and order out your men! I bring great 
news. The King’s felon is in this town, and may 
be seized! I have spied the false felon as he 
stood at Mass. ’Twere an ill day for you, Sir 
Sheriff, should he escape the King’s justice.” 

“What’s this pother about?” demanded the 
Sheriff in surly tones, for he had been roused 
from a nap, and the black monk in his haste had 
not mentioned the felon’s name. “Some petty 
rogue, I warrant, who hath but made free with 
the abbey hen roost.” 

“Petty rogue!” roared the black monk. “Did 
I not name him? Petty rogue, indeed, Sir Sheriff. 
Why, ’tis Robin Hood!” 

Now, you may be sure, the Sheriff was roused. 
He leapt from his chair and faced the black 
monk, and glittering eyes looked into glittering 
eyes. 

“Robin Hood!” gasped the Sheriff. “And in 
Nottingham again? Never!” 

“ ’Tis simple truth!” cried the High Cellarer. 
“I have seen him even now at Mass in St. Mary’s. 


HOW ROBIN HOOD WAS SEIZED 283 

What! Think you I could be mistaken in the 
sturdy rogue who robbed me of hundreds of 
pounds in the greenwood and brought me into 
dreadful trouble with the Abbot? Nay, Sir 
Sheriff, but his face is never out of my mind— 
never. I would know him among a thousand.” 

The Sheriff could still scarce grasp the idea 
that Robin Hood was inside the walls, but he 
raised a silver whistle which hung at his girdle 
and blew a call. A servant came in at once. 

“Bid Dickon and Hal attend me with thirty 
of the Foresters,” ordered the Sheriff, and took 
down his harness from a stand in the hall and 
began to array himself. By the time he had 
donned steel cap and a great leathern coat cov¬ 
ered with steel links, and girded his sword about 
him, his men were mustered, and they marched 
at once to the church. 

The entry of this armed force caused a great 
commotion in the place, but the Sheriff cried out, 
“Fear not, good people, I wish ye no harm. I 
have but come to seize a great rogue who hath 
crept in among you.” 

“There he is!” shouted the black monk. 
“Yonder fellow in gray kneeling by the great 
pillar. He is Robin Hood.” 

No one was more surprised than Robin him¬ 
self to hear his name ringing through the 
church. He had no idea that he had been spied 


284 


ROBIN HOOD 


upon, and his hood was now drawn so closely 
down that his face was quite hidden. But what 
an uproar arose in the church when the people 
heard that the thrice-f amous outlaw was in their 
midst! Some crowded to look upon him, some 
tried to push their way out of the place, and the 
Sheriff’s men blocked Robin’s way to the door. 

The outlaw saw that his only chance was to 
make one fierce dash upon his enemies in the con¬ 
fusion and hope to cut his way out. He breathed 
but one wish: “Would that my faithful Little 
John stood at my side. Alas! but I miss him this 
day.” Then he drew out his broadsword and 
rushed like a charging- lion upon the ranks of the 
Sheriff’s men. Up rose a score of swords in the 
hands of the Foresters, and many a blow was 
launched at the daring outlaw. But more haste, 
less speed, and the Foresters only jostled each 
other, and clashed sword against sword, and 
missed their aim, while Robin’s bright blade 
flashed in air and struck down man after man. A 
tremendous fight did Robin Hood make for free¬ 
dom that day. Thrice he cut his way through his 
foes, only to find new enemies in his path. To and 
fro leapt the outlaw, dodging blows and dealing 
strokes which felled Forester after Forester. 

“Slay him not!” shrieked the Sheriff. “Strike 
him down, but seize him alive. ’Tis the order of 
the King.” 


HOW ROBIN HOOD WAS SEIZED 285 


Robin heard the voice, and knew it was the 
Sheriff who spoke. He turned and made a swift 
rush at his ancient enemy, swinging his blade on 
high. The Sheriff shrank before that fierce 
assault and raised his shield to ward off the ter¬ 
rific blow which Robin aimed at him. Down fell 
the heavy blade, and clanged on the shield, and 
drove it from the Sheriff’s hand. Scarce checked 
in its fall, the sword clashed on the Sheriff’s steel 
cap and hurled him to the pavement. Well was 
it for the Sheriff that day that he had put on a 
helmet of proof, a splendid piece of work of a 
great armorer, for naught else saved him. Had 
it been common steel Robin’s sword would have 
gone through it as if it had been a cap of paper. 
As it was, the helmet stood the blow and the 
sword broke in two in Robin’s hand. 

“Ill befall the smith that made thee!” cried 
Robin flinging down the broken sword, “for now I 
am weaponless in the midst of my enemies.” 

And with that he leapt upon the nearest man 
and tried to wrench away the stout quarterstaff 
which the fellow had in his hand. But at the 
very moment he was tripped up from behind, and 
stumbled and fell to the ground. At once a 
dozen men flung themselves upon him, and he 
was pinned down by the sheer weight of num¬ 
bers; nor did his enemies loose their frenzied grip 
upon him until he was fast in bonds. 


286 


ROBIN HOOD 


By that time the Sheriff had got to his feet 
again, rather dizzy from that thunderbolt stroke, 
but very glad to find his head safe inside his good 
steel cap and almost beside himself with delight 
to think that he had Robin Hood in his hands at 
last. 

“Away with him!” cried the Sheriff. “Clap 
him into the deepest, strongest dungeon in the 
Castle keep, and let a double watch mount guard 
over him night and day.” 

This was done, and Robin Hood was shut up 
in a dungeon, where only at high noon a little 
light came through a thick grating. The walls 
were seven feet thick, and the door was fastened 
by three locks. 

“Let him break out of that if he can!” cried 
the Sheriff. “I have put the strong thief in a 
stronger place, and there must he stay.” 

“Why trouble to shut him up in so strong 
a place?” said the black monk, who burned to see 
Robin on the gallows. “Why not hang him up 
out of hand? I have heard you often threaten 
that you would do so if you could but seize him.” 

“And so I would if the matter stood with me 
alone,” snarled the Sheriff. “I would have bid¬ 
den my men to slay him on the spot had I dared.” 

“And why dared you not?” demanded the 
High Cellarer. “Who is there to gainsay the 
authority of the Sheriff?” 


&obtn ®oob toacf stfjut tip in a bungeon tofiere 
onlp at fjigt) noon a little ligfjt came tfjrougf) a 
tflicfc grating 











































































































288 


ROBIN HOOD 


“One who is above us all,” replied the Sheriff 
in a low voice—“the King! He hath sent orders 
to me that should Robin Hood be seized, the rogue 
must await his pleasure. The King hath heard 
so much of this strong thief that he wishes to see 
him!” 

The black monk said nothing for some 
time, but his brow was furrowed in thought. 
Then he spoke up, “Sir Sheriff, it was I who dis¬ 
covered the knave and delivered him into your 
hands.” 

“Ay, ay,” said the Sheriff. 

“Then I claim the right to bear the tidings of 
the capture to the King.” 

“Ay, ay,” chuckled the Sheriff. “And get 
some rich preferment from his Majesty?” 

“If there be a reward it is fitting it should 
come to me!” cried the High Cellarer. 

“I do not deny it,” replied the Sheriff, “and I 
wish with all my heart that you may get a fat 
abbey at the least to rule over. You have done 
me a great service, and I will make handsome 
mention of you in the letter which I shall write 
this afternoon to the King.” 

“And I will start with it at break of day to¬ 
morrow!” cried the black monk, who went at 
once to prepare for his journey. 

****** 

All that Sunday there was great commotion 


HOW ROBIN HOOD WAS SEIZED 289 

in Nottingham town. People ran to and fro, 
talking of the capture of Robin Hood, and every¬ 
one that had been in St. Mary’s Church that 
morning had a crowd round him eagerly listen¬ 
ing to his account of the great struggle the fa¬ 
mous outlaw had made. Yet not a whisper of all 
this passed the walls to the country beyond. For 
the Sheriff had doubled the guard at every gate 
and absolutely forbidden that any should go in 
or out until he had learned the King’s pleasure 
with regard to Robin Hood. 

“If no man goes out,” said the Sheriff, “then 
Robin Hood must stay with the rest of us. If no 
man comes in, then his rascals cannot sneak in 
from the forest to attempt a rescue.” So Not¬ 
tingham town lay like a beleaguered city, and its 
gates were barred and bolted night and day. But 
for all that, Robin’s men soon learned the evil 
tidings through Lobb the cobbler. Lobb was one 
of the first to hear of Robin’s capture, and, as 
soon as darkness fell on the city, he went to the 
roof of his house, which was built against the 
inner side of the wall. With him were two men 
who were stanch friends of the outlaw, and these 
let Lobb down over the wall by a rope. As soon as 
the cobbler’s feet touched the ground, he un¬ 
fastened the rope, and it was drawn back; then 
Lobb hurried away to the forest as fast as he 
could go. 


290 


ROBIN HOOD 


Lobb found a very uneasy band of outlaws 
gathered around the great fire in the glade where 
their camp was pitched. Every man was afraid 
that his leader had met with some mishap, since 
Robin had not returned; and most unhappy of all 
was Little John. The good-tempered giant had 
quite forgiven Robin’s hasty blow, and now 
blamed himself that he had not stayed by his 
master’s side. 

It would be impossible to picture the wrath 
and grief of the outlaws when they found that 
their worst fears were all too true, and that their 
beloved captain lay fast in hold in Nottingham 
town. But Little John stoutly refused to believe 
that the worst would happen. 

“He went to Nottingham to pray to Our 
Lady,” said Little John, “and Our Lady will help 
him. Many a time, brothers, hath our noble 
master been hard bestead, yet hath given his 
enemies the go-by, and I’ll warrant ye it will 
happen again. Let us pluck up our hearts and 
quit this mourning, and let us go and watch the 
town, and devise some plan for breaking in and 
freeing our leader.” 

Before dawn, Little John was lying in wait 
in a thicket before the southern gate of Notting¬ 
ham. With him was Much. Both had laid aside 
their forest green and wore plain leathern doub¬ 
lets, and had the guise of graziers and dealers 


HOW ROBIN HOOD WAS SEIZED 291 

who went from fair to fair buying and selling 
cattle. In this dress they would attract no notice, 
and could move freely about the country and 
through the neighboring villages. 

It was another lovely May morning, and 
when the sun came up in all his glory their hearts 
ached to think that Robin Hood lay in a foul, 
dark dungeon, where no sound of the song of 
birds or the soft whisper of the rustling leaves 
could reach him. Then all their attention was 
drawn to the gates, for they saw a postern door 
opened, and a small train come forth. The train 
was formed of a black monk riding a strong 
horse and a little page mounted on a white pal¬ 
frey; the postern door was closed behind them, 
and monk and page rode towards the thicket 
where Little John and Much lay in hiding. 

“I know yonder black monk,” whispered 
Little John to his comrade. “ ’Tis the High Cel¬ 
larer. Dost remember him, Much? We cleared 
his saddlebags of a round heap of gold.” 

Much nodded, and then obeyed Little John’s 
uplifted finger, which beckoned him to leave the 
thicket. The outlaws now took a sweep through 
the trees and came out on the road the black 
monk was following, and walked towards the 
town. At a bend they came upon monk and page 
riding at a foot pace, and keeping a sharp look 
out for any sign of danger. 


292 ROBIN HOOD 

The monk cast a glance at the newcomers, 
but, seeing two plain-looking fellows in dirty 
doublets, trudging along staff in hand, he made 
no attempt to avoid them, and presently the two 
parties met. 

“Give you good day,” said Little John, and 
bowed before the black monk. “Do you come 
from Nottingham?” 

“We do,” said the monk. 

“Tell us the tidings, I pray you,” went on 
Little John. “There is a story beginning to 
spread in the country that a desperate outlaw 
called Robin Hood was taken yesterday.” 

“See now how these tidings take wing in a 
manner none may understand!” cried the black 
monk. “How the rumor came to thee I cannot 
say, but it is true, good yeomen. The strong 
rogue was seized yesterday in St. Mary’s Church 
in Nottingham.” 

“F faith, was he?” cried Little John. “Well, 
he hath had money both from me and from my 
comrade here. We are fain to learn the truth.” 

“He robbed me, too,” said the black monk. 
“Hundreds of pounds did the false thief strip me 
of; but I had my revenge yesterday. It was I who 
discovered him and warned the Sheriff. It was I 
who had the chief hand in his capture, and you 
may, therefore, thank me for it.” 

“May Heaven reward you as you deserve,” 


HOW ROBIN HOOD WAS SEIZED 293 

said Little John, “and if ever we have a chance 
we will reward you also. And now, by your leave, 
we will go with you and bring you on your way, 
for Robin Hood has many a wild fellow in this 
forest, and if they knew that ye rode this way, i’ 
faith, ye should be slain.” 

“I know it,” said the black monk; “but we 
are well mounted and ready to flee at the first 
sign of danger.” 

“It is not easy always to mark the first sign 
of danger,” said Little John, shaking his head 
solemnly, “therefore we will attend you through 
the forest.” 

So they went on their way chatting together, 
and the black monk was so proud of his exploit 
that he could not forbear from boasting of it 
again and again and of the letters which he bore 
to the King. 

Presently they came to a place where the 
road ran through a deep dingle, and in the dusk¬ 
iest part of the way, Little John suddenly seized 
the monk’s horse by the head. The black monk 
was at once filled with suspicion and drew his 
dagger from under his mantle and struck at 
Little John. Little John whipped a sword from 
under his leathern doublet and gave the black 
monk such a return stroke that the monk fell to 
the ground a dead man. 

“He brought our master into this great 


294 


ROBIN HOOD 


trouble,” said Little John to Much, “and now he 
shall never go to the King to tell his tale.” 

Much had seized the palfrey of the little 
page, and now he sounded his horn. Soon a troop 
of their comrades ran up, and Little John bade 
these bury the body of the black monk and take 
the little page into safe keeping till he and Much 
should come again. 

Next Little John took the letters from the 
monk and mounted the horse. Much mounted 
the palfrey, and away they rode to London. 

When they reached London, they asked their 
way to the King’s palace, and at the door the 
porter asked their errand. 

“We bear letters to our lord the King from 
the Sheriff of Nottingham,” replied Little John, 
“and we may not give them into any hands but 
his own.” 

So they were shown into a hall where the 
King sat in a great chair, and a group of his lords 
stood about him. Little John went down upon 
his knee and held out the letters. 

“Heaven save you, my liege lord—Heaven 
save you, my liege King,” said Little John. “I 
have brought your Majesty these letters from the 
Sheriff of Nottingham.” 

The King took the letters and opened them 
and read them, and Little John knelt and stared 
in admiration at the King. And, in sooth, Little 


HOW ROBIN HOOD WAS SEIZED 295 

John did well to admire that noble figure, the 
figure of Richard Plantagenet, Richard of the 
Lion Heart. The bold, handsome face, the bright 
blue eyes, the stalwart, commanding form pro¬ 
claimed Richard every inch a king, and Little 
John fixed every feature in his memory that he 
might describe the Royal warrior to his comrades 
on his return to Sherwood. 

Suddenly Richard raised one hand, and dealt 
a resounding slap to the arm of his throne-like 
chair. 

“What think you, my lords?” he cried. “Here 
be welcome tidings, indeed, from the Sheriff of 
Nottingham. He hath seized that mighty out¬ 
law, Robin Hood of Sherwood Forest, and hath 
the knave safely in hold and waiting my 
pleasure.” 

“Good news—good news, my lord King!” 
cried the fat Bishop of Hereford, who was one of 
the prelates standing about the throne. “In 
truth, you are now master of the greatest rogue 
in Christendom. Have I not told your Majesty 
how the rascal plundered me and hath used me 
despitefully many a time? Once he made me to 
dance for his sport in the greenwood, and once 
he sent me back to Nottingham with my face to 
the horse’s tail. Glad I am to hear that your 
Majesty hath him and will hang him at last.” 

The Bishop ended his speech panting and out 


296 


ROBIN HOOD 


of breath, partly because in his excitement he 
had spoken so fast, and partly because the very 
sound of Robin Hood’s name always put him into 
a furious temper. 

The King smiled and looked at the letter 
again; he did not seem much disturbed at the re¬ 
lation of the Bishop’s wrongs and sufferings. 

“There is never a yeoman in merry England 
I have longed so sore to see as this Robin Hood,” 
said the King. “I must learn what kind of man 
is it who rules the forest as I, who am crowned 
King, rule this country.” 

For a few moments there was silence, then 
the King looked up sharply from the paper and 
fixed his bright blue eyes on Little John. 

“Yeoman,” said he. “I learn here that this 
letter was despatched by a monk, the High Cel¬ 
larer of St. Mary’s. Where is he? And how is it 
that thou has brought it?” 

But Little John was ready with his answer. 
“So please you, my liege Lord,” said the outlaw. 
“The monk died by the way, and the letters were 
entrusted to me to deliver to your Majesty.” 

The King nodded carelessly, for he cared not 
how the news came so that it was true. 

“Now, I will see this Robin Hood,” said 
Richard; “and as thou, good yeoman, hast 
brought the tidings, so shalt thou fetch him be¬ 
fore me.” And Little John bowed to the earth. 


HOW ROBIN HOOD WAS SEIZED 297 

In token of his Royal pleasure King- Richard 
gave the messengers a reward of twenty pounds, 
and made them yeomen of the Crown, and 
ordered that they should attend on his Royal 
person when they had made an end of their jour¬ 
ney to fetch Robin Hood to London. 

With his own Royal hand he gave the King’s 
seal to Little John, and bade him to show it to the 
Sheriff of Nottingham, and tell the Sheriff to 
hand over the prisoner and to provide a guard of 
forty archers to bring Robin Hood before the 
King. So Little John took his leave of King 
Richard and rode back to Nottingham with Much 
at his side and the King’s seal stored carefully in 
his bosom. 

When they came to the gates of Nottingham 
they found them fast, and Little John beat upon 
them loudly and shouted for the warder. In a 
short time the warder looked over the wall and 
demanded his business. 

“What means this?” cried Little John, 
feigning great surprise. “The gates locked and 
barred in broad day! Hast thou slept late, 
warder?” 

“Nay,” replied the warder. “The gates are 
kept shut night and day because we have Robin 
Hood fast in deep prison, and we bar the gates 
lest his men should rush in. As it is, they are 
ever shooting at the men on our walls.” 


20 




298 ROBIN HOOD 

“Well, thou must open to me!” cried Little 
John, “for I bring a message to the Sheriff from 
our lord the King.” 

When the warder heard that he let them in; 
but the gate was at once closed and fastened be¬ 
hind them, and Little John saw that the portal 
was guarded by a strong band of men-at-arms. 

“I must see the Sheriff at once,” said Little 
John, and he was led to the Sheriff’s house, and 
found the Sheriff seated in the hall. 

“I have a message from the King,” said Little 
John, and took the King’s seal from his bosom 
and showed it to the Sheriff. When the Sheriff 
saw the seal he rose from his chair, slid off his 
hood, and bowed as to the King himself. 

“What is the will of my lord the King?” 
asked the Sheriff. 

Little John delivered Richard’s orders, and 
the Sheriff promised that they should be obeyed. 

“And what will be done with the traitor when 
you have carried him to London?” asked the 
Sheriff. 

“There was talk there of hanging him on the 
gallows,” replied Little John. 

“Good, good!” said the Sheriff gleefully, “a 
fitting end for such a rogue. But where is the 
black monk that bore the letters from me? He 
looked for preferment from the King on convey¬ 
ing such welcome news.” 



g>o ftat rn'gfjt tfje £>fjeriff mabe a great feast tn 
{lonor of t&e Eing'S messenger* 





















































300 


ROBIN HOOD 


“He hath had it,” said Little John. “Prefer¬ 
ment so high that he will never return to Not¬ 
tingham. He receiving a fitting reward.” 

“Was it in money or land?” asked the Sheriff. 

“In land,” replied Little John. “He received 
enough land to amply content him. But I must 
go to an inn, my lord Sheriff, and rest and re¬ 
fresh myself and my follower. We have to start 
to-morrow with the prisoner, and we are weary.” 

“Nay, nay!” cried the Sheriff. “Ye shall go to 
no inn this day. Ye shall be my guests, and this 
night will I make ye a merry feast, and the King 
shall learn that I know well how to entertain his 
messengers.” 

So that night the Sheriff made a great feast 
in honor of the King’s messengers, and wine 
flowed in streams, and ale in floods, and all drank 
to the health of the King and to the safe hang¬ 
ing of Robin Hood. 

Little John was given a bed in a small room 
opening from the hall, and Much lay down on a 
pallet at Little John’s feet. The two comrades 
waited till all was silent in the house, and they 
rose, wrapped their mantles about them, and took 
their swords in their hands. They stepped softly 
into the hall and went across to the room where 
they knew that the Sheriff lay. They had to move 
very carefully, for the Sheriff’s men lay asleep 
before the fire and on the rushes spread over the 


HOW ROBIN HOOD WAS SEIZED 301 


floor of the hall. But every man was full of 
strong ale and slept heavily, and when they 
gained the Sheriff’s room they found that he also 
lay in a drunken sleep. This made it easy for 
Little John to draw the Sheriff’s ring from his 
finger, and that was all they needed. 

Next, they went down to the door, and there 
they found the porter as fast asleep as any, for 
he had been just as deep in the carouse. So Little 
John and Much opened the door and went 
through the dark and silent streets till they came 
to the prison where their master lay. Now they 
beat on the iron-banded door with the pommels 
of their swords until the passages within rang 
again. This noise called up the jailer, and he 
came to the door with a torch in his hand, and 
demanded to know who was without. 

“Robin Hood hath broken prison and fled!” 
cried Little John. “A careless jailer art thou.” 

“By my faith, but thou speakest falsehood,” 
replied the jailer. “He is safe in the deepest, 
darkest dungeon. I have seen him there but just 
now, and his bonds were upon him.” 

“Natheless, we must see him with our own 
eyes,” said Little John. “And we must know for 
a surety that he lies securely in ward.” 

“And who are ye?” cried the jailer. 

“We are the messengers who arrived to-day 
from the King,” returned Little John, “and we 


302 ROBIN HOOD 

bring a token from the Sheriff that ye may know 
we are men of trust.” 

In the door was a small, strong grating, 
through which the jailer might see those who 
sought admittance. The light of the torch was 
now streaming through the grating, and Little 
John held up the Sheriff’s ring full in the red 
light. The jailer saw it and knew it, and hastened 
to unbar the door. In sprang Little John and 
seized the jailer by the throat so that he should 
not call out and raise an alarm. In sprang Much 
and bound the jailer’s hands and feet with a 
length of cord he had carried under his cloak. 
Then the jailer’s head was muffled in his own 
jerkin, and the huge bunch of keys at his girdle 
fell into the hands of Little John. 

“Now will I be the jailer,” said Little Jonn; 
and, first of all, he locked up the true jailer in one 
of his own dungeons. Then, seizing the torch, he 
descended the steps towards the prison cells 
which lay deepest of all. Here he saw an iron 
door fastened with three great padlocks of steel, 
and forthwith he began to try the keys on the 
locks, for he felt sure his master was shut up 
there. 

Six or seven keys he tried before he found the 
right one, but at last the third padlock was un¬ 
fastened and the curved bolt drawn from the 
heavy staple. Then Little John opened the door 


HOW ROBIN HOOD WAS SEIZED 303 


and went into the dungeon. On a heap of straw 
in the far corner lay a man fast bound, but, as 
soon as the light of the torch fell upon him, Little 
John knew the figure and sprang forward. Robin 
Hood, for it was he, sat up and blinked at the new¬ 
comer, for the glare of the torch blinded him, so 
many days had he lain in dreadful darkness. 

“Master, master, I am here! Up, master, and 
escape!” 

“Little John!” breathed Robin in the utmost 
wonder, for, though he knew his voice, he could 
scarce believe his own ears. 

“Ay, master, it is I.” Little John whipped out 
a keen knife and freed Robin from his bonds with 
a few swift slashes. Then he drew a second sword 
from beneath his cloak and placed it in Robin’s 
hand. Up sprang Robin Hood, wild with delight 
to find his bonds stripped from him and a good 
sword in his hand to guard his head. 

At this moment they heard a loud cry of 
warning from Much, who. had been left above to 
guard the way of escape. Robin Hood and Little 
John rushed up the stone stairs, and as they went 
a clash of swords and an uproar of voices broke 
out above them. They ran out into the upper 
passages, to find Much hard beset by five men- 
at-arms who had rushed from the guard room, 
having been roused to discover that something 
was wrong. With a mighty shout Little John 


304 


ROBIN HOOD 


leapt into the fray, and Robin followed suit, and 
in a twinkling the guards were driven back into 
their room where they had been sleeping. 

“Off! Off!” cried Little John. “This affray 
will rouse the town, and that swiftly. Follow 
me!” and he led the way to the outer door, which 
had been left wide open. 

“To the West Gate!” cried Robin Hood, as 
they sprang into the street. “The slackest watch 
is ever kept there.” 

But at that instant Clash-clang-clang! went 
the heavy bell in the turret overhead. Some one 
had rushed to the alarm bell, and was tolling it 
madly to arouse the town. 

“There will be slack watch at no gate nov, 
master!” cried Little John, as the thunderous 
clang of the great bell pealed over the sleeping 
city. “Yon bell will put all on the alert and fill 
every street with enemies anon. This way! This 
way!” and he darted down a narrow lane, and 
his companions followed him. 

The night was so dark that in the narrow 
passage the three comrades could not see each 
other. Little John halted for a moment and 
thrust the end of his cloak into Robin’s hand. 
Much took the hem of Robin’s jerkin, and so they 
kept together, and followed Little John as he 
wound his way through two or three lanes, for he 
knew every corner of Nottingham by day or 


HOW ROBIN HOOD WAS SEIZED 305 

night. At last he paused under the shelter of a 
pent house, and the three fugitives stood still to 
listen to the uproar which was growing in the 
town. The bell still clanged furiously, and lights 
began to flash at windows, and people hurried 
from their houses asking whether it was fire or 
thieves which assailed the town. 

“Stand still until the throng thickens,” 
whispered Little John. “Then we will join with 
them and hide amongst them.” Soon a number 
of townsmen, with staves and halberds in their 
hands, and one or two with lanterns, came hurry¬ 
ing along, and in a short time numbers of people 
were running to and fro asking for news, and 
the three friends could leave their shelter and 
move amid the crowd without being remarked 
upon. Little John again led the way, and his 
friends soon understood that he was making for 
the house of Lobb the cobbler. Just as they 
gained the head of the close in which Lobb lived, 
they heard a man shouting to another, “ ’Tis 
Robin Hood has escaped and fled, neighbor. He 
hath broken out of hold, and the gates are kept, 
and the town is to be searched house by house.” 

‘T faith, that piece of news concerns us,” 
chuckled Little John, “and we must be out of 
Nottingham as soon as may be.” 

So he went quickly down the close and tap¬ 
ped lightly on the window shutter, and Lobb him- 


306 


ROBIN HOOD 


self came to see who it was. The cobbler opened 
the shutter, and Little John thrust his head into 
the house, for the window was no more than a 
hole in the wall, and had no glass in it. 

“Lobb,” whispered Little John. “Art alone 
in the house?” 

“Ay, John,” whispered the cobbler in return, 
for he knew Little John by his voice, low as he 
spoke. 

“Well, then, unbar the door and let us in,” 
said the big fellow, and the door was unfastened, 
and in they went. Lobb closed the shutter and 
lighted a lamp. When he saw Robin Hood in 
his house, he was full of delight to think that 
the great outlaw had escaped thus from his 
enemies. 

“Now, haste thee, Lobb,” said Little John. 
“Even as thou earnest to warn us that our master 
was taken in like manner must we escape this 
night.” 

“Come along to the roof,” said Lobb. “The 
rope is ready coiled at the head of the ladder.” 

So they went up the ladder which led to the 
roof of the cobbler’s house and out on to the roof, 
and thence they climbed to the top of the wall. 
And the rope was put round Robin’s waist and 
his friends let him down. Then Much was low¬ 
ered, and, as for Little John, he hung by his 
hands from the top of the wall and then leaped 


HOW ROBIN HOOD WAS SEIZED 307 

to the ground, for Lobb alone could not have held 
the weight of his great body. Then Lobb quickly 
drew up the rope and went back into his house, 
while the three comrades hurried through the 
darkness. As they went a cock crowed loudly, 
and Robin Hood looked to the east. “By my 
faith!” said he, “we have not escaped a moment 
too soon. Yonder dawns the day,” for it was all 
gray in the east, and the dawn was near at hand, 
and they ran on faster. 

In the town the Sheriff was longing for the 
dawn. He felt certain that with the day he would 
once more seize Robin Hood. He had been 
aroused from his sleep by the clangor of the 
alarm bell, and his wrath was beyond all describ¬ 
ing when he knew that his famous captive had 
broken prison. But on the heels of wrath came 
fear, and the Sheriff trembled. 

“I dare never look in the face of the King!” 
he cried, “for should I come before him without 
Robin Hood, in truth he will hang me out of 
hand. I know his temper.” So the Sheriff urged 
on the search with the utmost fury, not only 
with the hope of putting the rope round Robin’s 
neck, but also with the desire of clearing it from 
his own. 

When he heard that no one had passed 
through the gates, he felt a little easier in his 
mind. “The knave is hidden by some friend in 


308 


ROBIN HOOD 


the town,” he said. “The day will soon break, 
and we will search house and shed and sty but 
what we will seize him.” 

True to his word, the Sheriff searched the 
town from end to end, from cellar to garret, but 
all in vain: he knew it not, but while he searched, 
Robin was in Merry Sherwood with a heart as 
light as the bird which sang on the bough in the 
May sunshine. Again and again he thanked the 
good friends who had brought him safe and 
sound from his great peril, and his yeomen 
waved their bows in air and shouted again and 
again to see the master safely among them. Then 
Little John said to Robin Hood, “Master, I have 
done you a good turn for evil, for I could not bear 
to think that you should lie in hold and suffer 
a shameful death. Now I have brought you 
under the greenwood tree and you are safe and 
sound, farewell, and good day to you.” 

“Nay, nay, Little John!” cried Robin. “Leave 
me not because of that hasty blow, of which I 
repented sorely within a short time. By my 
truth, thou art fitter to command than I. I make 
thee now master of all my men and me: thou 
shalt be our leader.” 

Little John’s kind heart was touched at this 
generous offer, and he sprang to Robin Hood’s 
side. “Nay, master,” he said, “by my faith, that 
shall never be so. I will be thy follower as of 


HOW ROBIN HOOD WAS SEIZED 309 

old, and no other place will I take than that of 
Robin Hood’s man.” 

And so Robin Hood and Little John stood 
together under the greenwood tree as master 
and man once more. And the joyous outlaws 
celebrated this great day with a merry feast. 

As for the Sheriff, he was in despair when 
the news came to him that Robin Hood was rang¬ 
ing the forest as gaily as ever. He wrote a most 
humble letter to the King, and begged that 
Richard would forgive him, and said that noth¬ 
ing would have beguiled him had not Little John 
brought the King’s own privy seal. 

Richard was so vexed to think how cleverly 
Little John had played with him that his bright 
blue eyes sparkled with anger and his fresh face 
flushed hotly. But anger never stayed long in 
the mind of the Lion Heart, and soon he took a 
loftier view of Little John’s daring trick. 

“By my halidom, my lords!” he said to his 
courtiers, “but that man was true to his master. 
I say, by sweet Saint John, he loves Robin Hood 
better than he loves his King. Would that I had 
followers as true and loyal. Robin Hood is ever 
bound to him for this brave rescue, but i’ faith, 
the rogue beguiled us finely. Surely there are 
not three such yeomen in England. I would give 
a jewel from my crown to see this Robin Hood 
who wins such devotion from his men. But he 


310 


ROBIN HOOD 


slips through the fingers of everyone.” And 
Richard smiled as he thought of the fine reward 
he had given to the two yeomen whose only object 
was to thwart him and set their master free. 

As for the little page who had set out with 
the black monk, he liked the life in the forest so 
much that he became a servant of Robin Hood, 
and never went back or ever wished to go back 
to Nottingham again, and in time he became as 
good a yeoman as any. 


Chapter XIII 


WILL STUTELY FALLS INTO A TRAP 

N OW it happened on the night that Robin 
Hood, Little John, and Much made their 
famous escape over the walls of Notting¬ 
ham that they were seen. A neighbor of Lobb 
the cobbler had been aroused by the alarm bell 
and the shouting, and had run out to see what 
was the cause of the uproar. He was going back 
into his house when he heard stealthy move¬ 
ments on the roof of Lobb’s shop. He was a sly, 
creeping sort of fellow this neighbor, whose 
name was Higg. So he hid himself and watched 
the cobbler’s house. Soon he became certain that 
three men had been let down over the wall, and 
he wondered what it meant. The next day he 
felt quite certain who the men were when he 
heard the Sheriff’s man proclaim that a great 
reward would be given for the capture of Robin 
Hood and the two men who had pretended to be 
messengers from the King. 

Higg went at once to the Sheriff and told his 
story. At first the Sheriff had it in mind to seize 
( 311 ) 


312 ROBIN HOOD 

Lobb; but just as he was about to give the order 
he paused. 

“Nay,” said the Sheriff, “to seize a wretched 
cobbler is scarce worth the trouble. He shall be 
my decoy bird. If the outlaws make such use of 
him, surely they often visit him. So I will have 
his house watched, and perhaps it will be a trap 
in which to seize a prize worth taking.” 

So he gave Higg twelve silver pennies on the 
spot, and promised him fifty more if he would 
watch his neighbor’s house closely, and give the 
word at once when Lobb had visitors who had 
the air of men from the greenwood. 

Higg pocketed his silver pennies and went 
home and kept a sharp watch on Lobb’s house. 
More than a week passed before he came hot¬ 
foot to the Sheriff’s house. 

“There is a stranger now with Lobb,” he said. 
“Not a townsman, but, I believe, an outlaw.” 

The Sheriff sent three of his men at once to 
seize the stranger they would find in the house 
of Lobb the cobbler, and to bring him to the 
Sheriff’s hall. 

Away went the three men and burst into the 
cobbler’s house, and found him talking with a 
tall, strong man. The latter was Will Stutely, 
and he had actually come on Robin’s behalf to 
see if Lobb had escaped all suspicion of being 
concerned in the flight of Robin and his friends. 


WILL STUTELY TRAPPED 313 

Now Robin’s care for Lobb, who had helped him, 
was the cause of Will’s downfall, for no one 
dreamed that the sly and cunning Higg was 
watching the house for the Sheriff. 

As it happened, one of the three men sent by 
the Sheriff knew Will Stutely well. 

“Ay, ay, ’tis an outlaw!” he cried. “Seize 
him, comrades! Away with him to the Sheriff! 
Our master will be pleased with this. ’Tis one 
of the chief among the rogues who serve under 
Robin Hood.” 

Will drew his sword and made a dash at the 
door. There was a fierce fight, and Stutely cut 
down two of his opponents, and burst out into 
the street. But there he met with fresh enemies, 
and was overpowered and taken. 

The Sheriff laughed a grim laugh when he 
knew that one of Robin’s men had been seized. 

“No need to appeal to the King about this 
one, at any rate!” he cried. “This fellow is in 
my hands entirely, and up he shall swing with 
the break of day to-morrow. Put him in jail and 
let a strong body of archers watch the place until 
he is safely hanged.” 

When Robin Hood heard this news he was 
deeply grieved and said to his men, “Let us swear 
that Will Stutely we will rescue, or, if we fail, 
many a gallant wight we will slay in revenge.” 

Robin at once gathered his men from every 


21 


314 


ROBIN HOOD 


part of the forest, and the outlaws marched away 
to the rescue of their comrade. 

Away they marched to Nottingham, and be¬ 
fore the break of day Robin had placed his men 
in ambush before the walls. To their surprise 
the first light of dawn showed them a gallows 
erected before the gate. The Sheriff was so con¬ 
fident that this swift hanging would be carried 
out with success that he had built the gallows 
in face of the forest and in scorn of the outlaws; 
he little dreamed how swift Robin had been to 
rush to the rescue. 

“There is a palmer standing under the walls 
yonder,” said Robin Hood to Little John. “I will 
send a messenger to him to gain the latest tid¬ 
ings.” 

A young man was sent to speak with the 
palmer, and returned with the news that Will 
Stutely would soon be brought out to be hung 
on the gallows tree before the wall. Scarce had 
the young man returned than the gates were 
thrown open widely and a line of archers and 
spearmen, bowmen and billmen, came pouring 
out of the town. Rank after rank they swept 
forward until the gallows was surrounded by a 
powerful force of armed men, their spear heads 
and drawn swords glittering in the rays of the 
newly risen sun. 

Almost last of all came Will Stutely, his arms 


WILL STUTELY TRAPPED 315 

bound and a white cap on his head. This cap. the 
hangman would pull over the prisoner’s eyes be¬ 
fore the rope was put round his neck. Around 
Will marched a band of the Sheriff’s stoutest fel¬ 
lows, and the Sheriff himself rode beside the 
group which guarded the outlaw. 

Will looked up at the gallows and gave a 
grimace of disgust, then spoke up gallantly to 
the Sheriff: 

“Now, seeing that I must die, grant me, I 
pray you one boon. No man of our noble band 
hath yet been hanged. Therefore, give me a 
sword, and let me be unbound that I may fight 
with thy men until I am killed.” 

But the Sheriff would not hear of granting 
Will Stutely so brave a death. 

“No, indeed,” replied the Sheriff gruffly. 
“Thou shalt die on the gallows and thy master, 
too, if ever it lie in my power!” 

Will Stutely laughed the Sheriff to scorn on 
hearing this craven reply, but the Sheriff cared 
nothing for that, and only wished to see the out¬ 
law hanging by the. neck. 

Now near the gallows there was a little 
thicket of hazels, and just as the rope was about 
to be placed round Will Stutely’s neck, a tall man 
sprang from this thicket and burst through the 
guards with the utmost coolness. 

“What, Will!” he said, “and are you going to 


316 


ROBIN HOOD 


take leave of the world without bidding good-bye 
to all your friends? Nay, that is unkind of you.” 

Will looked up with a gasp of delight. He 
could not fail to know that voice and to recognize 
the huge form. It was Little John who stood 
before him. 

In the surprise and confusion following the 
moment in which the giant burst through the 
ring of guards, Little John was quick to act. He 
cut Will’s bonds and snatched a sword from the 
hands of one of the Sheriff’s men and gave it to 
his friend. “Now, Will, guard thy head!” he 
cried, and the two outlaws stood back to back and 
defied the whole throng to seize them. 

All this had passed so quickly that the Sher¬ 
iff sat on his horse gaping in silent wonder and 
scarce able to find his voice. Then voice and rage 
burst from him together. 

“’Tishe! ’Tis he!” yelled the Sheriff. “Yon¬ 
der great rogue is the fellow who hath cozened 
the King and me. ’Tis the false messenger. Seize 
him on your lives! But, nay. Slay him! Slay 
him! That is the surer way.” 

It was all very well for the Sheriff to call 
upon the guard to slay Little John, but to do it 
was another matter. For the giant stood there, 
his buckler on one arm, his huge, gleaming sword 
waving above his head, his ruddy face lit with the 
joy of battle, and ready to crush to earth any 


WILL STUTELY TRAPPED 317 

who should dare to venture within reach of that 
mighty broadsword. 

Then arose a still wilder shout of surprise 
and a louder cry of dread, for a long, clear bugle 
note rang out, and a band of archers sprang from 
cover of the forest and rushed upon the force 
which the Sheriff had gathered. 

“Robin Hood’s men! Robin Hood’s men!” 
shouted the Foresters. “Bows and bills, com¬ 
rades! Bows and bills! Have at them! Have at 
them!” 

“A Hood! A Hood to the rescue!” roared the 
outlaws and charged home, with Robin at their 
head. 

The onset of the outlaws was so fierce and 
unexpected that the Sheriff and his men were 
borne back into the very gates of the town. This 
advantage lay to the credit of the brave and wily 
Little John. He had made his venture alone into 
the midst of the enemy in order to draw their 
attention and give his comrades a chance of tak¬ 
ing them unawares, and he had succeeded nobly. 
In the uproar of the combat he cut his way easily 
through the ranks of the enemy and rejoined his 
friends, with Will Stutely at his side. 

Robin Hood had his eyes everywhere at once. 
No sooner did he see that the prisoner and Little 
John were safe than he sounded the order for 
retreat to the forest. He had gained his end, and 


318 


ROBIN HOOD 


there was no further need for bloodshed. Be¬ 
sides, the Sheriff’s men were beginning to rally 
and recover from the surprise, and they formed 
a powerful and well-armed force, outnumbering 
the outlaws by at least three to one. So Robin, 
like a prudent leader, thought it wise to draw 
back in time. 

The outlaws obeyed at once, and began to 
retreat, shooting steadily as they went, and hold¬ 
ing back their foes with shower after shower of 
keen shafts. But there were brave fellows, too, 
among the Sheriff’s force, and these burst after 
the outlaws in hot pursuit. On the edge of the 
forest a sad mischance befell, for down went Lit¬ 
tle John on his face with an arrow through his 
knee. 

“Master!” cried Little John. “I can neither 
fight nor fly. Take, I pray thee, thy good broad¬ 
sword and smite off my head that I may not fall 
alive into the hands of the Sheriff, who will 
triumph over me.” 

“By the rood, Little John, but I will not!” 
cried Robin Hood. “I would not lose thee for all 
the gold in Merry England,” and he turned to 
hold back the foremost of his pursuers while 
Little John was carried off. This was done by 
Much, who swung the huge fellow on his shoul¬ 
ders and bore him away, heavy as he was, with 
ease. 


WILL STUTELY TRAPPED 


319 


So the running fight and retreat went on, 
ever growing worse for the outlaws, for seven 
men were wounded sorely, and not one was left 
to the tender mercies of the Sheriff. Many fell 
on the other side, but these did not hinder the 
pursuit, which pressed hotter and hotter on the 
forest outlaws. Robin Hood was a host in him¬ 
self that day. Every time his bow twanged, one 
of the Sheriff’s men reeled to earth, and so far 
was the range of his whistling shafts that he 
held them at bay long after they would have 
closed on poorer bowmen. Nobly did his men 
second him. Will Scarlet, Stutely, Hal, and 
Hobb, and the rest fought beside him, and the 
“iron sleet” of their keen shafts held back the 
fierce pursuers, while others toiled ahead with 
the heavy load of wounded men. 

And so the tide of retreat and battle surged 
along a forest road and into a wide clearing, 
where a fair castle raised its gray walls above a 
deep moat. 

At sight of the combat the warder blew his 
horn and aroused the inmates of the castle. 
Among the first to reach the walls was the knight 
who was the lord of the castle. He cast a single 
glance at the retreating men, then rushed to the 
drawbridge, crossed it, and hurried towards 

them. , . 

“In, in!” he shouted. “Carry your wounded 


320 ROBIN HOOD 

in, and retire thither every man. My house is 
thine.” 

It was Sir Richard of the Lea, not forgetful 
of benefits received, and never was invitation 
more welcome. In trooped the outlaws to the 
shelter of the strong stone walls, and the Sheriff 
and his men dashed up to hear the portcullis 
clang down, and the drawbridge go creaking up, 
and to find themselves on the wrong side of the 
deep, dark moat. 

The proud and disappointed Sheriff cried 
out, “Thou traitor knight, thou’rt succoring the 
enemy of the King! Thou’rt breaking the law!” 

Then Sir Richard looked over the wall and 
replied, “Sir, I will avow the deed that I have 
done, even to the loss of my lands. Go now to the 
King, and learn what is his will in this matter. 
Till then Robin Hood and his men are safe with 
me. 

So the Sheriff went to London and told the 
tale to the King. 

“By my faith as crowned king and belted 
knight,” said Richard Plantagenet, “but these 
fellows hold together truly and stanchly. The 
more I hear of them, the greater grows my wish 
to see them. Go back, Sheriff, and stir no more 
in this matter at present. I myself will come to 
Nottingham shortly and look into these things 
myself.” 


WILL STUTELY TRAPPED 321 

Now the Sheriff had been hoping to get 
orders from the King to raise the whole country 
on Sir Richard’s castle, and so he was greatly dis¬ 
appointed. Still, there was nothing for him to 
do but go home in dudgeon, and wait for the 
King, while Sir Richard feasted Robin and his 
men to the full, and his lady nursed Little John 
and the wounded men back to health and 
strength. 


Chapter XXIV 


KING RICHARD COMES TO SHERWOOD 
FTER a time King Richard came down to 



Nottingham in hopes of meeting with 


Robin Hood. He marched into the forest 
attended by a strong body of knights and ex¬ 
pected to encounter the outlaws very shortly. 
But he marched hither and thither, and found 
the forest empty and silent as far as all human 
life was concerned: he saw the deer bounding 
over the greensward, the great oaks waving their 
boughs in the wind, but never a glimpse had he 
of the stout fellows in Lincoln green. 

Day after day passed, and Richard traversed 
the glade and woodland all in vain; he seemed no 
nearer to coming to speech with Robin Hood than 
he had been when seated in his palace in London. 

“By my halidom,” said Richard, “but this is 
passing strange. I was told that these fellows 
so haunted the forest roads that a beggar could 
not pass unnoticed, and yet I see naught of 
them.” 

The reason was simple: it was Robin’s own 
doing that Richard saw nothing of the outlaws. 


( 322 ) 


KING RICHARD 


323 


Robin loved his King, and was not willing that a 
hand should be raised against Richard and his 
followers, so he gave strict orders that his men 
should keep out of the way. 

He was faithfully obeyed. Time and again 
the outlaws lay hidden in brake and shaw* as the 
glittering train swept by, and smiled to see the 
King and his lords pass within easy bowshot, but 
never an arrow was placed on string and never 
a sign was given of their presence. 

One day Richard was lamenting that Robin 
Hood seemed to have vanished from the face of 
the earth when an old Forester who stood by his 
knee smiled and said, “Nay, my liege Lord, he is 
in the forest as surely as I stand here, and ye may 
easily see him.” 

“How?” demanded the King. 

“Why, my Lord, you go in armor and with a 
train of soldiery: think ye that the outlaws will 
set green jacket against coat of mail? I trow 
not; but should ye go in guise of a fat abbot, 
whose mails would yield rich plunder on rifling, 
I warrant me that Robin would appear fast 
enough.” 

King Richard saw the force of these words 
and nodded gaily. The adventure was just to 
his liking, and the very next day he slipped 
secretly from Nottingham in abbot’s dress, with 


♦Copse. 



324 


ROBIN HOOD 


half-a-dozen followers, dressed as monks, and a 
couple of led horses, heavily laden with stores 
and baggage. 

Sure enough he had not gone three miles into 
the forest before he was called upon to stand. At 
a bend of the way, a man, handsomely dressed in 
Lincoln green, bow in hand and quiver full of 
shafts, stepped from a thicket and laid his hand 
on the Abbot’s bridle. 

His sunburned face and bright eyes were 
full of amusement as he said, in courteous tones, 
“Sir Abbot, by your leave, you must bide awhile 
with me and my men.” He waved his bow, and at 
once a score of hardy, active fellows burst from 
the bushes and surrounded the party. At their 
head was a huge yeoman, grinning at sight of 
this rich haul, and on him Richard’s eyes were 
at once fixed: it was easy to know Little John 
again. 

Then Richard looked at the first man and 
knew that Robin Hood stood before him at last. 

“And who are ye who bar my way?” asked 
the King quietly in his deep, rich voice. 

Robin Hood started slightly at hearing 
those commanding tones and looked keenly at 
the stranger. But the great hat and hood which 
Richard wore quite concealed his features. Then 
Robin replied: 

“We be yeomen of this forest. We dwell 


KING RICHARD 325 

’neath the greenwood tree and we live on our 
King’s deer, for we have no other means. But 
ye have churches, rents, and much gold; give us 
of your plenty, for Saint Charity’s sake.” 

“In truth, good yeoman,” said Richard, “I 
have brought to the greenwood no more than 
forty pounds. For I have lain at Nottingham 
with the King’s Court and spent much on feast¬ 
ing these great lordlings who follow the King.” 

“Art thou a true follower of the King?” 
asked Robin. 

“That am I,” replied Richard. “I love him 
with all my heart.” 

“Then for that speech thou savest half thy 
money, Sir Abbot,” said Robin. “Give me twenty 
pounds for my men, and keep the other twenty 
for thine own needs.” 

“Gramercy,” said Richard, “but thou art a 
very gentle yeoman. And thou must know that 
my errand into this forest is to search for thee 
and bid thee come to Nottingham to meet the 
King; he is full of longing to see thee, and he 
sends thee a safe conduct, and here is his seal to 
assure thee.” 

Richard now drew the Royal seal from be¬ 
neath his cloak and showed it. Robin bent his 
knee in respect before it, and every yeoman 
pulled off his hood and stood bareheaded. 

“Why,” said Richard in surprise, “I was told, 


326 


ROBIN HOOD 


yeoman, that thou wert a disloyal fellow who set 
the King’s law at naught and did all kinds of 
evil.” 

“Nay, Sir Abbot,” replied Robin. “I hate 
unjust Sheriffs and greedy monks, but I love no 
man in all the world so well as I do my gallant 
King, and if thou art his messenger and bear his 
seal I make thee welcome to the greenwood, and 
to-day thou shalt dine with me for the love of our 
King under my trysting tree.” 

So Robin led the Abbot’s horse until they 
came to the camp pitched under a mighty oak 
which was the trysting place of Robin and his 
men. Here Robin sounded his horn, and his men 
ran to the spot, company by company, bright, 
brisk, alert fellows, well dressed and well armed, 
and every man bent his knee in courtesy to his 
leader. 

“By my faith,” thought Richard, “these fel¬ 
lows are more at his bidding than my men be at 
mine.” 

Swiftly a fine feast was made ready, and the 
disguised Abbot and his men were set down to it. 
Richard was hungry, and he ate and drank and 
enjoyed the noble fare of the greenwood to the 
full. 

When the dinner was over Robin Hood said 
to his guest, “Now ye shall see what life we lead 
in the forest that ye may report our doing to my 


KING RICHARD 


327 


lord the King.” So the yeomen fell to their 
sports, wrestling, playing with the quarterstaff, 
and, above all, archery, the dearest sport of all. 

At the foot of the glade they set up a long, 
slender wand, and Robin bade his men split it 
with their arrows. Another mark was a rose gar¬ 
land, through which the arrows had to be shot 
without touching leaf or flower. 

“By my faith!” cried Richard; “but those 
marks are set full fifty paces too far away, good 
yeoman.” 

“Nay,” smiled Robin. “Of what use to prac¬ 
tice at an easy mark? And, i’ faith, should any 
man miss he must take a stout buffet on the ear 
in penalty.” 

“But does not such an exchange of buffets 
breed ill-will among them?” asked Richard. 

“Content you, Sir Abbot, but that is foreseen 
and guarded against. Every man receives his 
buffet at the hand of our Father Confessor, Friar 
Tuck, and the punishment received from the 
Church must ever be taken in meek obedience. 
Stand forth, Friar Tuck, for shooting is about to 
begin.” 

Friar Tuck came up from the spot where he 
had just been polishing off a huge venison pasty 
and murmured a greeting in very bad Latin to 
the captive Abbot, who replied with the utmost 
correctness. 


328 


ROBIN HOOD 


“And dost thou smite them in earnest, 
brother?” demanded Richard. 

“Ay, verily I do,” replied Tuck, his small, 
bright, black eyes rolling mischievously above 
the forest of black beard which almost swal¬ 
lowed his face, “for if our men shoot carelessly 
we are like to be undone: so that the bad shot 
must be paid for by a good blow.” 

The shooting now began, and Richard mar¬ 
veled at the wonderful skill shown by yeoman 
after yeoman. The wand was split or the arrow 
threaded the garland with astonishing precision. 
But at last Much was so unlucky as to miss the 
wand. He was at once forced to stand up before 
the powerful friar, who sent him rolling with one 
swing of a brawny arm. Then Little John, to the 
wonder of all, failed at the garland, and even 
the giant was now felled by the thick arm of 
Friar Tuck. 

The yeomen roared with laughter to see the 
huge lieutenant measure his length on the green¬ 
sward, and then a still louder shout arose, for 
Robin Hood himself now missed the garland and 
must pay the penalty of failure. 

“If I must be chastised by the Church,”- 
laughed Robin, “let me make my choice. Sir 
Abbot, serve me out my blow.” 

“Nay, master,” protested Friar Tuck, “that 
is to slip aside. What can yonder fat, lazy Abbot 


KING RICHARD 329 

do? His blow were no more than a tap with a 
bulrush.” 

“Say not so, friar!” cried Richard. “Thou 
art not to-day the only man in a Churchman’s 
gown who hath a little pith in his arm.” 

“A fig for the pith in thy arm,” said Tuck 
scornfully. “I would take a cuff from thee and 
scarce know what had tickled my ear.” 

“And wouldst thou so!” cried the supposed 
Abbot, leaping from his seat. “Then here is a 
fair offer, friar. I will abide thy blow if thou 
wilt abide mine.” 

“And I to have first blow?” cried the stout 
friar eagerly. 

“Yes,” said the other. 

“Agreed, agreed!” roared Tuck joyously. 
“By the Mass, if I do not save my own head, then 
e’en let it sing.” 

Thus promising that the Abbot would be 
struck helplessly down, Friar Tuck rolled up the 
sleeve of his gown and showed a brawny arm, on 
which the muscles worked in knots and ridges as 
he closed and unclosed his huge fist. 

The yeomen formed an eager ring, and the 
Abbot stepped quietly into it and stood erect to 
receive the friar’s blow. 

“By our Lady,” murmured Robin to himself, 
“but yonder Abbot is a goodly figure.” 

Head and shoulders above the burly figure 


22 


330 


ROBIN HOOD 


of the friar rose the stately form of the Lion 
Heart, and when Friar Tuck loosed at him a ter¬ 
rific blow, which would have hurled a heavy man 
flying-, naught was disturbed save the Abbot’s 
great hat, which flew twenty yards away. 

The yeomen raised a great shout of applause 
in honor of the first man who had ever held his 
own against Tuck’s mighty fist, and then the 
Abbot said quietly, “My turn now, brother,” and 
Tuck, without a word, stood manfully forth to 
take the return cuff. 

But what a shout was raised when the Abbot, 
folding up his sleeve, bared a muscular arm, and 
dealt Friar Tuck such a blow that the burly 
priest went head over heels as if a thunderbolt 
had smitten him. Every man who had felt the 
weight of the friar’s fist shouted with glee at 
thus seeing him paid back in his own coin, but 
Robin Hood did not laugh. 

“An evil choice I have made,” he thought. 
“This stranger is a more terrible boxer than our 
own Tuck.” But he stood forth to take his cuff, 
and received so hearty a one that Robin meas¬ 
ured his full length on the greensward and the 
Abbot’s hood flew back as he struck. 

“In truth, Sir Abbot, thou art a stalwart 
fellow,” said Robin, getting up and rubbing his 
head ruefully. “There is more pith in thy arm 
than ever I dreamed a Churchman had.” 


KING RICHARD 


331 


He looked up into the Abbot’s face and won¬ 
dered if this man could be a Churchman, for 
never had Robin seen an Abbot with such a bold, 
handsome face, with such bright, sparkling, hon¬ 
est blue eyes, with such a merry smile, so merry 
and gay, that Robin could not help smiling in 
sympathy. But Robin’s wonder was turned to. 
astonishment when he saw Little John fling him¬ 
self on his knees before the Abbot, and call out, 
“Pardon, Sire, pardon!” 

“Pardon for what, Little John?” cried Robin. 
“Thou hast had thy cuff. There is no need to fear 
that this Abbot of the mighty arm will deal thee 
a second blow.” 

But again Little John cried, “Pardon, Sire, 
pardon!” and at the next moment the wonder of 
the onlookers grew. For their good friend Sir 
Richard of the Lea now rode down to the glade 
to join them, and no sooner did he see the Abbot 
than he hasted to leap down from his horse and 
fall on his knees beside Little John. 

“Is there any service a loyal knight may ren¬ 
der to his King?” said Sir Richard. “If there be, 
I am at your Majesty’s command.” 

“The King!” cried Robin in wonder. 

“The King!” echoed the yeomen, and every¬ 
one bent the knee before that stately figure in 
abbot’s weeds. 

“Mercy, Sire,” cried Robin Hood to the King. 


mm 






















































KING RICHARD 333 

“Mercy for my men and me, I crave, under our 
trysting tree.” 

“Mercy you shall have,” said Richard smil¬ 
ing; “for surely such a brave band of yeomen 
were better employed in my service than exiled 
in the forest here. What say you, Robin Hood? 
Will you be my man, and serve me henceforth?” 

“I will, my Lord!” cried Robin Hood. “I am 
your man from this day and for ever!” and his 
men echoed the words, and, with a loud shout, 
gave their fealty to Richard of the Lion Heart. 

“Hast thou any green cloth to spare, Robin?” 
asked the King, “for, by my faith, I would rather 
wear a forest jerkin than these dark weeds,” and 
he threw his abbot’s cloak aside. 

“Plenty, my liege Lord,” replied Robin Hood, 
and hastened to dress the King and his followers 
in Lincoln green such as the outlaws wore. 

In this guise they returned to Nottingham, 
the King and Robin Hood and the whole band of 
outlaws. But when the people of Nottingham 
saw this great band of men in green drawing 
near to the town they were greatly frightened. 

“The King is slain,” they said, “and here 
come the outlaws to seize the town and kill us 
all.” So at first they fled in dismay. 

But soon the truth was discovered, and then 
all crowded to see the King enter the town in tri¬ 
umph among the forest outlaws - outlaws no 


334 ROBIN HOOD 

longer, but free men who could smile in the face 
of the Sheriff. And, I promise you, the Sheriff 
looked on very sourly at sight of this friendship 
of King Richard for Robin Hood. 

That night there was a merry banquet in 
Nottingham town, for the King now feasted the 
outlaws as they had feasted him, and there was 
the best of good cheer, and Alan-a-Dale sang his 
gayest songs and struck the sweetest strains on 
his harp, so that Richard was full of delight, and 
swore that for good fellowship and mirth and 
music his new followers surpassed all. 

Before Richard went back to London there 
was a gay wedding in St. Mary’s Church, and 
Maid Marian became the bride of Robin Hood. 
The King graced the wedding with his presence, 
and raised Robin to the rank of a noble, with the 
title of Earl of Huntingdon. 

And so Robin Hood entered the service of 
the Lion Heart, and left the greenwood glades of 
Sherwood, as he thought, for ever. 


Chapter XXV 


ROBIN HOOD SHOOTS HIS LAST ARROW 

F OR some time Robin Hood was very happy 
in the service of the King. Then Richard 
left England again, and Robin found life 
at Court very dull. More than that, he was not 
on friendly terms with Prince John, that false, 
cruel, cowardly man who later became King 
John, the most worthless King that England has 
ever known. 

Now Prince John was always plotting to 
seize the throne, and he sent messengers to sound 
Robin Hood to find out if Robin and his bold 
archers would be willing to support Prince John 
against his brother Richard. But Robin was full 
of rage at the thought of such base treachery, 
and sent back a reply which caused Prince John 
to hate him bitterly. 

One lovely morning in May, Robin was walk¬ 
ing through the streets of London and thinking 
how beautiful his beloved forest of Sherwood 
would look on such a day as this and how weari¬ 
some it was here, cooped up inside the walls of 
London town. He walked on to Finsbury Fields, 

( 335 ) 


336 


ROBIN HOOD 


and there stood to watch the young men shoot¬ 
ing at the butts. The twang of the bows, the 
whistle of the arrows, sweetest music in his ears, 
fired his blood, and he resolved to go once more 
to Sherwood and hunt in its glades. So he and 
Maid Marian, with Little John and Will Scarlet, 
slipped secretly from London and set out for the 
forest. They had to leave the city quietly or 
Prince John would have prevented them from 
going, and now that his brother was abroad, 
John held great power in the land. 

Oh, how delightful it was to regain the old 
haunts, where the great harts and the dun deer 
ran through the woodland glade and the sun 
seemed to shine twice as brightly as amid the 
dirty city streets! 

Forth they went to hunt, and Robin, with a 
single shaft, slew a mighty hart, and felt him¬ 
self once more a woodman gay and free. And so 
they spent some happy days, when one morning 
a man came running through the trees to the 
camp under the trysting oak, and they saw it 
was Much, their old and trusty comrade. 

“Save you, master, and beware!” cried Much 
to Robin, “for King Richard is dead in France, 
and King John is now the ruler of the land.” 

“Ah!” said Robin. “And is he King John at 
last? This tidings bodes no good to me.” 

“You speak truth, master,” said Much, “for 


ROBIN HOOD’S LAST ARROW 337 

one of his first commands has been that you are 
to be seized and cast into hold. And of this I 
have hastened to tell you.” 

“A thousand thanks, my faithful Much!” 
cried Robin. “Then once more am I outlaw in 
the greenwood. Welcome to our merry old life! 
’Tis a thousand times happier and more joyous 
than to live in the gayest palace a town can 
afford. Hail to the forest glade! Hail, 
Sherwood!” 

And Little John and Scarlet echoed their 
master’s cry and waved their bows for joy to 
think that the old days had come back again, for 
both were weary of guard room and city street. 

So Robin Hood became an outlaw once more 
in the depths of Sherwood Forest, and swiftly his 
men slipped back to rejoin him until all the old 
faces were seen in the ring about the evening fire, 
as Alan-a-Dale thrummed to them on the harp 
and sang the sweet songs of the North Countree. 

But a time of fierce storm and stress fol¬ 
lowed, for King John was a far more terrible 
enemy than the Sheriff of Nottingham had ever 
been. He sent force after force of trained sol¬ 
diery to beat the forest recesses and drive the 
outlaws out. Many a wild skirmish was fought 
out among the great oaks: sometimes the out¬ 
laws won, sometimes they lost and were com¬ 
pelled to flee before the King’s men, but con- 


338 


ROBIN HOOD 


quered they never were. Year after year passed, 
and still they lay in hiding- among the thickets, 
and not one failed in faith and devotion to the 
dauntless Robin Hood, their trusted leader. 
Then King John died, and all England was full 
of joy to think that the hated tyrant had gone, 
yet was none so joyous as the hunted outlaws, 
who had lost their worst and bitterest enemy, 
and could now have a little peace. 

So time passed on until, as the old ballad 
says, “Robin dwelled in greenwood twenty years 
and two/’ and in this time Robin saw many 
changes. He lost his beloved partner, Maid 
Marian, and many an old comrade had been laid 
to rest beneath the mighty oaks, but still Little 
John, his faithful lieutenant, was at his side, and 
master and man hunted the dun deer over hill 
and dale. 

Then came a time when Robin Hood felt that 
his strength was failing. His great yew bow be¬ 
came too stiff for him to bend, the whistling 
shaft did not travel to the old range, and he felt 
listless and ill at ease. 

In this state of mind and body he remem¬ 
bered that he had a cousin, the Prioress of Kirk-' 
ley, who was deeply skilled in the medicine of the 
time. So he said to Little John that he would go 
to the nunnery over which his cousin ruled and 
ask her to bleed him, for in those days people 


ROBIN HOOD’S LAST ARROW 339 

believed that many diseases could be cured by 
letting blood. 

He set out at once for fair Kirkley, but on 
the way he was taken ill, and he was very weak 
when he arrived at the door. His cousin wel¬ 
comed him with open arms and offered food and 
drink, but Robin replied that he would neither 
eat or drink until he had been bled. 

So the prioress led Robin to a small room 
high up in the house, and there she opened the 
veins of his arm with a lancet, and the blood ran 
freely. Now Robin thought he was in the hands 
of a friend, but in truth he was in the grip of a 
treacherous enemy. The prioress was a close 
friend of some of Robin’s bitterest foes, and had 
promised them to do him an ill turn if ever she 
had the power. Her chance had now come, and 
the wicked woman made the most of it. She bled 
her helpless guest until he lay weak and faint¬ 
ing. At length Robin revived a little and tried 
to leave the room to which the prioress had con¬ 
ducted him. But he found the door was locked, 
and no one answered his outcries and knocking. 
And now he began to suspect the truth: that he 
had been shut up there to bleed to death. 

He dragged himself to the window and flung 
open the casement, but he was so weak that he 
could not leap down. Still, there was one thing 
at hand, the thing that had so often brought 


340 


ROBIN HOOD 


strong hands and stout hearts to his rescue when 
sore bestead—his bugle horn. He knew that Lit¬ 
tle John was awaiting him in the forest near at 
hand, and he raised the horn and blew it thrice, 
but ah! such short, feeble blasts, the faintest 
echo of the full, rousing notes with which he had 
so often caused the woodland to ring. But his 
faithful follower was on the alert and caught 
the faint sounds. 

Sitting under the tree Little John barely- 
heard the horn. “I fear my beloved master is 
near death,” he said, “he blows so weak a blast.” i 

So up he sprang and ran to Kirkley Hall as 
fast as he could put his feet to the ground. He 
came to the great door and knocked loudly. No 
one answered, no one came even to look out at 
the lattice beside the door to parley with him. 
Again he knocked until the place rang again 
with his heavy blows. No answer. Then the j 
giant felt sure that there wa^foul play some¬ 
where, and he glanced about for means of entry. 

He looked at the windows, but they were 
very small and iron-barred. Then his eye fell 
on a great log of oak, a piece of timber which two 
ordinary men could scarce lift. The giant sprang , 
at it, caught it up, and smote the door a thunder- i 
ing crash of a blow which burst all locks and 
bars as if they had been straws and sticks, and 
beat the door from its hinges. As the door clat- 


ROBIN HOOD’S LAST ARROW 341 

tered on the pavement of the hall Little John 
leapt in and shouted, “Master! Master! Where 
are you?” 

He listened, but the silence was perfect; the 
nunnery seemed as quiet as a house of the dead. 
He called again, and now a faint voice answered 
him from above. He rushed upstairs, and again 
heard the call, and ran to the door of the room 
whence it came. The door was locked, but Lit¬ 
tle John burst it open with his knee and sprang 
in. « 

“What is this, master?” he cried. “Treach¬ 
ery, I fear me. Thou art bleeding to death!” 

“Ay, Little John,” said the dying man 
slowly. “My time has come.” 

Little John fell upon his knee beside his be¬ 
loved leader. “Then one last boon, I crave of 
thee, dear master!” he said sternly. 

“What boon is it thou dost beg of me, Little 
John?” asked Robin Hood. 

“It is that I may burn Kirkley Hall and its 
nunnery and consume this nest of traitors with 
fire.” 

“Nay,” quoth Robin Hood, “I cannot grant 
that boon, for never have I injured a woman or a 
man in woman’s company. Give me my bow and 
I will shoot a broad arrow. Where that arrow 
falls I would have my grave dug.” 

Little John raised his master and bore him 


342 


ROBIN HOOD 


to the open window. Long and fondly the dying 
man looked on the woodlands he had loved so 
well, and then, with a last effort, he collected all 
his remaining strength and placed an arrow on 
the string, drew the feather home, and loosed it. 
He smiled as the bow twanged full and deep, and 
his ear caught the sound which had been the 
sweetest music in the world to him. 

“Lay me where the arrow drops,” he mur¬ 
mured. “Bid my true hearts dig me a deep 
grave, and lay a green sod under my head, and 
my good bow at my side.” Little John nodded, 
for he could not speak, and with his eyes fixed on 
the greenwood, Robin Hood died in the arms of 
his faithful follower. 

So died Robin Hood. But his fame did not 
die with him. Age after age and generation 
after generation his memory lingered among the . 
common people, who loved to recall his famous 
exploits and the doings of his great followers. 
Kings and nobles were forgotten or their deeds 
recorded only in musty books which none but 
scholars read. But minstrels and rhymers made 
ballad after ballad of the doings of Robin Hood, 
and these ballads lived on the lips and in the \ 
hearts of the people. They were sung or recited 
on holidays and at merry-makings, and no 
rhymes were so popular as those which told of 
this true English hero—a protector of the poor, 





$e gmileb ass tfjc boto ttnangeb full anb beep 













































































































































































344 


ROBIN HOOD 


a foe to the tyrant, brave, gentle, and chivalrous, 
a man after the English peasant’s own heart. 

Tradition says that he was buried at the spot 
where his last arrow stood in the turf. A stone 
was set up at his head, and on it was graven the 
inscription:— 

“Here, underneath this little stone. 

Lies Robert, Earl of Huntingdon; 

Never archer as he so good, 

And people called him Robin Hood. 

Such outlaws as he and his men, 

Will England never see again.” 

After Robin’s death his company was broken 
up and no record is kept of the end of any among 
them save Little John. And the grave of that 
famous outlaw is a disputed spot. England, 
Scotland, and Ireland contend for the honor of 
his death and burial. In each country a site is 
pointed out as that of Little John’s grave. Some 
authorities give the pride of place to the village 
of Hathersedge, in Derbyshire, where there is a 
long and wide grave, which, when once opened, 
was found to contain some bones of uncommon 
size. It is marked by a great stone at the head 
and foot, and tradition declares that, should any 
one be so daring as to move the bones, he would, 
become a most unlucky man until they were 
restored, when his troubles would cease. And so, 
peace to the ashes of those famous yeomen and 
mighty outlaws, Robin Hood and Little John! 


APPENDIX 


ROBIN HOOD AND THE BALLADS 

Of the life of the real Robin Hood, little is known, although 
much careful scholarship has been devoted to study about this 
popular hero. Anyone wishing to acquaint himself with the 
scholarly work that has been done should consult two monumental 
works dealing with this subject. They are Robin Hood— A Col¬ 
lection of all the Ancient Poems, Songs and Ballads, now extant, 
Relative to that Celebrated English Outlaw, by Joseph Ritson, 
published by John C. Nimmo, London. The other is A Lytell 
Geste of Robin Hood, edited by John Mathew ’Gutch, F.S.A., 
and published by Longman, Brown, Green, & Longmans, London. 
The following quotation is from the abridgment of Ritson’s Life of 
Robin Hood, as given by Gutch: 

“ Robin Hood was bom at Locksley, in the county of Notting¬ 
ham, in the reign of king Henry II, and about the year of Christ 
1160. His extraction was noble, and his true name Robert Fit- 
zooth, which vulgar pronunciation easily corrupted into Robin 
Hood. He is frequently styled, and commonly reputed to have 
been, Earl of Huntingdon; a title to which, in the latter part of 
his life, at least, he actually appears to have had some sort of pre¬ 
tension. In his youth he is reported to have been of a wild and 
extravagant disposition; insomuch that, his inheritance being 
consumed or forfeited by his excesses, and his person outlawed for 
debt, either from necessity or choice he sought an asylum in the 
woods and forests, with which immense tracts, especially in the 
northern parts of the kingdom, were at that time covered. Of 
these he chiefly affected Barnsdale in Yorkshire, Sherwood in 
Nottinghamshire, and, according to some, Plompton-park, in 
Cumberland. Here he either found, or was afterwards joined by, 
a number of persons in similar circumstances: 

23 (345) 


346 


APPENDIX 


“ ‘Such as the fury of ungoverned youth 
Thrust from the company of lawful men;* 

who appear to have considered and obeyed him as their chief or 
leader, and of whom his principal favourites, or those in whose 
courage and fidelity he most confided, were Little John (whose 
surname is said to have been Nailor), William Scadlock (Scathelock 
or Scarlet), George A. Green, pinder (or pound-keeper) of Wake¬ 
field, Much, a miller's son, and a certain monk or friar named 
Tuck. He is likewise said to have been accompanied in his retreat 
by a female of whom he was enamoured, and whose real or adopted 
name was Marian. 

“His company, in process of time, consisted of a hundred 
archers; men, says Major, most skilful in battle, whom four times 
that number of the boldest fellows durst not attack. His manner 
of recruiting was somewhat singular; for, in the words of an old 
writer, ‘ whersoever he heard of any that were of unusual strength 
and hardines,' he would 'desgyse himself, and rather than fayle, go 
lyke a beggar to become acquaynted with them; and, after he had 
tryed them with fyghting, never give them over tyl he had used 
means to drawe (them) to lyve after his fashion,' a practice of which 
numerous instances are recorded in the more common and popular 
songs, where, indeed, he seldom fails to receive a sound beating. 
In shooting with the long bow, which they chiefly practised, 'they 
excelled all the men of the land; though, as occasion required, they 
had also other weapons.' 

“In these forests, and with this company, he for many years 
reigned like an independent sovereign; at perpetual war, indeed, 
with the king of England, and all his subjects, with an exception, 
however, of the poor and needy, and such as were 'desolate and 
oppressed,' or stood in need of his protection. When molested, by 
a superior force, in one place, he retired to another, still defying 
the power of what was called law and government, and making 
his enemies pay dearly, as well for their open attacks, as for their 
clandestine treachery. It is not, at the same time, to be concluded 
that he must, in this opposition, have been guilty of manifest 
treason or rebellion; as he most certainly can be justly charged 


APPENDIX 


347 


with neither. An outlaw, in those times, being deprived of protec¬ 
tion, owed no allegiance: ‘his hand was against every man, and 
every man’s hand against him.’ These forests, in short, were his 
territories; those who accompanied and adhered to him, his subjects: 

‘The world was not his friend, nor the world’s law:’ and what 
better title King Richard could pretend to the territory and people 
of England than Robin Hood had to the dominion of Bamsdale or 
Sherwood, is a question humbly submitted to the consideration 
of the political philosopher. 

“The deer with which the royal forests then abounded (every 
Norman tyrant being, like Nimrod, ‘a mighty hunter before the 
Lord’), would afford our hero and his companions an ample supply 
of food throughout the year; and of fuel, for dressing their venison, 
or for the other purposes of life, they could evidently be in no want. 
The rest of their necessaries would be easily procured, partly by 
taking what they had occasion for from the wealthy passenger, 
who traversed or approached their territories, and partly by com¬ 
merce with the neighbouring villages or great towns. 

“It may be readily imagined that such a life, during great 
part of the year at least, and while it continued free from the 
alarms and apprehensions to which our foresters, one would suppose, 
must have been too frequently subject, might be sufficiently pleas¬ 
ant and desirable, and even deserve the compliment, which is paid 
to it by Shakspeare, in his comedy of ‘As You Like It’ (act i, 
scene I), where, on Oliver’s asking, ‘Where will the old duke live?’ 
Charles answers, ‘They say he is already in the forest of Arden, 
and a many merry men with him; and there they live like the old 
Robin Hood of England; and fleet the time carelessly as they did 

in the golden world.’ “ . 

“But it is to be remembered, according to the confession of 
the latter historian, that, in these exertions of power, he took away 
the goods of rich men only, never killing any person, unless he was 
attacked or resisted; that he would not suffer a woman to be mal¬ 
treated; nor ever took any thing from the poor, but charitably fed 
t )ipm with the wealth he drew from the abbots. ‘I disapprove,’ 
says he, ‘of the rapine of the man; but he was the most humane, 
and the prince of all robbers.’ In allusion, no doubt, to this irreg- 


348 


APPENDIX 


ular and predatory course of life, he has had the honour to be 
compared to the illustrious Wallace, deliverer of his country; and 
that, it is not a little remarkable, in the latter’s own time. 

“ Having, for a long series of years, maintained a sort of inde¬ 
pendent sovereignty, and set kings, judges, and magistrates at 
defiance, a proclamation was published, offering a considerable 
reward for bringing him in either dead or alive; which, however, 
seems to have been productive of no greater success than former 
attempts for that purpose. At length, the infirmities of old age 
increasing upon him, and desirous to be relieved, in a fit of sickness, 
by being let blood, he applied for that purpose to the prioress of 
Kirkleys nunnery in Yorkshire, his relation (women, particularly 
religious women, being in those times somewhat better skilled in 
surgery than the sex is at present), by whom he was treacherously 
suffered to bleed to death. This event happened on the 18th of 
November 1247, being the thirty-first year of King Henry III, and 
(if the date assigned to his birth be correct) about the eighty- 
seventh of his age. He was interred under some trees at a short 
distance from the house; a stone being placed over his grave, with 
an inscription to his memory. ,, 

Robin Hood undoubtedly stands as a representative of the 
rude time when popular rights as we know them now had little 
recognition. Scott, in his “Ivanhoe”, makes him representative 
of the Saxon race at the time when it was under the oppression of 
the conquering Normans. In the days when the Norman conquerors 
held their land from the king, and the peasants or villeins were 
attached to the soil, the burdens of the common people were grievous 
to bear. If a thrall ran away from his master and endeavored to 
secure employment elsewdiere, he was looked upon as a criminal, 
to be brought back and punished with the whip or the branding- 
iron, or cast into prison. 

The great forests afforded a natural refuge to the better spirits, 
of whom Robin Hood may well stand as a type. Living an inde¬ 
pendent life with a price upon their heads, they were able to make 
use of their knowledge of woodcraft and their skill with the rude 
weapons of the time. Thus they were often able to set at defiance 
the assumed forces of their oppressors. 


APPENDIX 


349 


Like other ballads, those of Robin Hood owe their preserva¬ 
tion largely to oral tradition. Thus they are often extravagant 
in statement and frequently vary greatly in their recital of facts. 
They afford, however, most charming pictures of a rude stage of 
civilization, and of the periods and standards from which our own 
social sanctions have developed. 

After the introduction of printing these ballads were hawked 
about the country by chapmen, or cheapmen, in many different 
forms. The industry of such scholars as Mr. Ritson has reduced 
this valuable body of literature concerning Robin Hood to forty 
ballads; from these many editions of stories about this popular 
hero have been evolved. 

The following is given as an illustration of the ballads telling 
a story of Allin 'A' Dale, as it is given in the text: 

Robin Hood and Allin ‘A’ Dale: 

“Or a pleasant relation how a young gentleman, being in love 
with a young damsel, ‘she' was taken from him to be an old knight's 
bride: and how Robin Hood, pittying the young man's case, took 
her from the old knight, when they were going to be marryed, and 
restored her to her own love again. To a pleasant northern tune, 
Robin Hood in the green-wood stood. 

“Bold Robin Hood he did the young man right, 

And took the damsel from the doting knight.” 

(From an old black letter copy in Major Pearson's collection.) 


Come listen to me, you gallants so free. 

All you that love mirth for to hear, 

And I will tell you of a bold outlaw, 

That lived in Nottinghamshire. 

As Robin Hood in the forest stood. 

All under the green wood tree, 

There he was aware of a brave young man. 
As fine as fine might be. 

The youngster was clothed in scarlet red, 
In scarlet fine and gay; 

And he did frisk it over the plain, 

And chanted a round-dc-lay. 


350 


APPENDIX 


As Robin Hood next morning stood 
Amongst the leaves so gay, 

There did [he] espy the same young man 
Come drooping along the way. 

The scarlet he wore the day before 
It was dean cast away; 

And at every step he fetcht a sigh, 

“Alack and well a day;’* 

Then stepped forth brave Little John, 

And “Midge” 1 the millers son, 

Which made the young man bend his bow, 

When as he see them come. 

Stand off, stand off, the young man said, 

What is your will with me? 

“You must come before our master straight, 

Under yon green wood tree.” 

And when he came bold Robin before, 

Robin askt him courteously, 

O, hast thou any money to spare 
For my merry men and me? 

I have no money, the young man said, 

But five shillings and a ring; 

And that I have kept this seven long years, 

To have it at my wedding. 

Yesterday I should have married a maid, 

But she from 2 me was tane, 

And chosen to be an old knights delight, 

Whereby my poor heart is slain. 

What is thy name? then said Robin Hood, 

Come tell me, without anj' fail. 

By the faith of my body, then said the young man, 
My name is Allin a Dale. 

What will thou give me, said Robin Hood, 

In ready gold or fee, 

To help thee to thy true love again, 

And deliver her unto thee? 


1 Nicke. 

2 Soon from. 



APPENDIX 


351 


I have no money, then quoth the young man, 

No ready gold nor fee, 

But I will swear upon a book 
Thy true servant for to be. 

“How many miles is it to thy true love? 

Come tell me without guile.” 

By the faith of my body, then said the young man, 
It is but five little mile. 

Then Robin he hasted over the plain, 

He did neither stint nor lin, 

Until he came unto the church, 

Where Allin should keep his wedding. 

What hast thou here? the bishop then said, 

I prithee now tell unto me. 

I am a bold harper, quoth Robin Hood, 

And the best in the north country. 

O welcome, 0 welcome, the bishop he said, 

That musick best pleaseth me. 

You shall have no musick, quoth Robin Hood, 

Till the bride and the bridegroom I see. 

With that came in a wealthy knight, 

Which was both grave and old, 

And after him a finikin lass, 

Did shine like the glistering gold. 

This is not a fit match, quod bold Robin Hood, 
That you do seem to make here, 

For since we are come into the church, 

The bride shall chuse her own dear. 

Then Robin Hood put his horn to his mouth, 

And blew blasts two or three; 

When four and twenty bowmen bold 
Came leaping over the lee. 

And when they came into the church-yard, 
Marching all on a row, 

The first man was Allin a Dale, 

To give bold Robin his bow. 

This is thy true love, Robin he said, 

Young Allin, as I hear say, 

And you shall be married at “this” same time, 
Before we depart away. 




352 


APPENDIX 


That shall not be, the bishop he said, 

For thy word shall not stand; 

They shall be three times askt in the church, 
As the law is of our land. 

Robin Hood pull'd off the bishops coat, 

And put it upon Little John; 

By the faith of my body, then Robin said, 
This “cloth” does make thee a man. 

When Little John went into the quire, 

The people began to laugh; 

He askt them seven times in the church, 

Lest three times should not be enough. 

Who gives me this maid? said Little John. 
Quoth Robin Hood, That do I; 

And he that takes her from Allin a Dale, 

Fully dearly he shall her buy. 

And thus having ended this merry wedding, 
The bride lookt like a queen; 

And so they return’d to the merry green-wood, 
Amongst the leaves so green. 


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